Skip to main content

Full text of "The diary of a lady-in-waiting"

See other formats


This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project 

to make the world's books discoverable online. 

It has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one that was never subject 

to copyright or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books 

are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often difficult to discover. 

Marks, notations and other maiginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the 

publisher to a library and finally to you. 

Usage guidelines 

Google is proud to partner with libraries to digitize public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the 
public and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing tliis resource, we liave taken steps to 
prevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing technical restrictions on automated querying. 
We also ask that you: 

+ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request that you use these files for 
personal, non-commercial purposes. 

+ Refrain fivm automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort to Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine 
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the 
use of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help. 

+ Maintain attributionTht GoogXt "watermark" you see on each file is essential for in forming people about this project and helping them find 
additional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it. 

+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just 
because we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other 
countries. Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of 
any specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner 
anywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liabili^ can be quite severe. 

About Google Book Search 

Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers 
discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web 

at |http: //books .google .com/I 












.; TUB oiary" !' ,■ ; ■ [ ;; 

.'•■MF.S dl' V.r.'^Ki,, ! :■ I 

■.-rK::;ni.) vViTH 'Rir.-.--:-; 
rtm 1 at;- ox- en i •■., ■. 
('■THi.R •■,-r,i;>:y i' ■ ' 

■■1 w I r H .\ N 1 

!iRK : :,')KN r.ANi COMPAQ V .;,:;;Mviii 











Lady Charlotte Susan Maria CAMPBELL—one of the 
greatest beauties of her day, whose " Diary Illustrative 
of the Times of George the Fourth " (wWch we here 
reprint) made so much stir in the world when it first 
appeared in 1838 — merits a short biographical notice. 

She was bran February 18, 1775,* and was the younger 
daughter of John, 5th Duke d Argyll, and of his wife, 
Elizabeth Gunning, Duchess of Hamilton, one of the 
beautiful Irish Gunnings of whom we learn so much 
from Horace Walpole. For Elizabeth Gtmning, thoi^h 
her fair face was her sole fortune, married in succession 
two Scottish Dukes. By her mother's two marriages 
Lady Charlotte was half-sister to the 7th and 8th Dukes 
of Hamilton and to the unhappy Elizabeth, Countess of 
Derby, and full sister to George, 6th, and John Douglas, 
7th Duke of Argyll and to the handsome Lady Augusta 
Clavering. She received her name from Queen Charlotte, 
whom her mother had escorted from Germany when 
betrothed to her future husband King George III. and to 
whom she was then Lady-in-waiting, and as a duke's 
dan^ter was, from her earliest years, naturally placed in 
the highest society. Horace Walpole, writiig of the 
Argyll family to Miss Berry in 1791, when Lady Charlotte 
was only »xteen, says, " Everybody admires the }roungcst 
dan^ter's person and understanding." She was much 



abroad in France and Italy during early life, owing to the 
ill-health of her mother (who died in 1790} and she 
acquired a very considerable knowledge of art and a real 
love of literature and music. She was presented to King 
George III. and Qu^n Charlotte, when about seventeen, 
and soon astonished London by her beautiful face and 
handsome presence, and we find her praises sung in many 
letters and memoirs of the time. Like many another 
spoiled beauty, however, she did not make a brilliant 
match, for on June 21, 1796, she married her kinsman, 
John Campbell, "hands(Hne Jack Campbell," a good- 
looking young man of twenty-four, "a great fellow," 
and with only a small income, as was most natural, 
as he was the eldest of the fourteen children of Walter 
Campbell of Shawfield. 

At first Lady Charlotte and her husband were a good 
deal in Edinburgh, where she queened it over the literary 
set and wrote some poems which were published anony- 
mously 1797, and there in 1798 she, " in pride of rank and 
beauty's bloom," introduced Walter Scott, of whom she 
had made a friend, to Matthew Lewis, the then celebrated 
author of "The Monk," whose "Divinity" she was. 
Another of her friends and correspondents was Charles 
Kirkpatrick Sharpe, the antiquary, whom some called 
" the Scottish Walpole ; " and a more critical one. Miss 
Susan Ferrier, the novelist, whose father was agent for 
the Argyll family and who was a frequent visitor at 
Inverary Castle, where Lady Charlotte often acted as 
chdtdaine. In 1803 she and her husband made Hartwell, 
in Bucks, their headquarters, but she was still frequently 
in Scotland, and in Edinburgh in 1809 her husband died, 
leaving her, at the age of thirty-four, a widow, " in uneasy 
circmnstances," as she had been since her marriage, with 
nine children but scantily provided for. 

A year after this, whether compelled by poverty or not, 
she accepted the position of Lady-in-waiting to H.R.H. 



Caroline, Princess of Wales, with whom she had sympa- 
thised for some years. The situation was not a pleasant 
one, as the Princess was separated from her husband, 
the powerful and vindictive Prince of Wales, and estranged 
by Queen Charlotte's dislike to her, from the Court. To 
add more difficulties, she. by her own imprudence, follies 
and indiscreet conduct, was continually making her 
position and that of her ladies and gentlemen, which 
was bad at all times, wCHse than it might have been. 
Deserted by her husband soon after the birth, in 1796, of 
their only child, the Princess Charlotte, the Princess of 
Wales had been involved in serious charges of adultery 
brought against her by two treacherous friends. Sir John 
and Lady Douglas, whom she, though knowing little of 
their antecedents, had foolishly made much of during 
her retirement at Blackheath. Though cleared of the 
charges in 1S06 by *' the Delicate Investigation " of a 
Commission of Peers appointed by her uncle the King — 
alwa}s her f riend--she was lefH-oved for levity of manners, 
and though allowed to appear at Court, she was coldly 
received by the old Qjtien and debarred from seeing much 
of her daughter. 'Die scandal which attached to those 
proceedings naturally was reflected on her circle, and as 
she still continued to keep with her a child, William 
Austin, said, by rumour, to be her own, but whcMU the 
" Delicate Inv^igation " held to be the child of a poor 
wcunan at Deptford whom the Princess had taken under 
her protection, there were still many people who believed 
the former scandals, which therefore came to the surface 
from time to time, and these timid w(»rthies either avoided 
the Princess's Court or at most gave it only fMon-recogni- 
tion, particularly after her posecuting husband became 
Prince Regent in 1811. As she was always pressed for 
m<siey. in addition to her Court duties. Lady Charlotte 
attempted to make an income by literature. In 1812 
she published a novel (the jwecursor of many others) 



called " Self-indulgence," but in 18x3 the affairs of the 
Princess of Wales involved more of her attention as they 
took a turn for the worse. She was bearer of a letter 
in January from the Princess to her husband, now Prince 
Regent, petitioning for freer intercourse with Princess 
Charlotte, her daughter, but on account of this embassy 
she was received in a most insulting manner.* During 
her term of waiting at the Princess's Court (she was then 
living at 13 Upper Brook Street and going much into 
society as well), she kept, as we shall see later, a full Diary 
and in it recorded her impressions emd opinions as well as 
the foibles of her mistress, the Princess of Wales, for 
whom, in spite of her undignified conduct, she seems to 
have had a genuine compassion and a real though con- 
temptuous affection. In 1814, the service of the Princess 
bec^e, through her exhibition of favouritism, too 
compromising however, and on the excuse of taking her 
family to Geneva, Lady Charlotte went abroad, but she 
still remained on friendly terms with her former mistress 
and corresponded with the Princess and her suite. In 
October Lady Charlotte was somewhat surprised to 
find that the Princess of Wales, who had also gone abroad 
to seek a freer air, arrived also at Geneva, appeared in a 
bizarre manner at a ball where she was, and extracted a 
promise that she would rejoin her later during her journeys 
on the Continent. She accordingly left Nice for Genoa in 
April 1815 in the Princess of Wales' frigate, the Clorinda, 
joining the Princess at Genoa and went with her to 
HUan, not leaving her service finally until May 1815, 
having remained longer than any other member of her 
English suite, who could not suffer the favour the Princess 
showed to her ex-courier Bartolomeo Bergami. Lady 
Charlotte returned to England, "more eaten wp witii 
sentiment than ever," says Miss Ferrier, and going 

* Miss Knight's Autobiography, i. 316-7. 



abroad again, displeased her family * and friends by 
manying at Florence on March 17, 1818, a young clergy- 
man of good birth who possessed a real taste for Art, 
ihe Rev. Edward John Bmy, who had travelled in Italy 
with her eldest son, and under the name of Lady Charlotte 
Bury she was cited as a witness for the defence at the 
trial of Queen Caroline in i8zo, and was in England 
during her sad last days and death. Her husband's 
extravagant tastes as well as her own impecunious cir- 
cumstances forced Lady Charlotte, now in England, now 
abroad, to take up her pen anew,and her novels came thick 
and fast. She published " Conduct is Fate " (1822), 
" Alia Giomata " (1826), " Flirtation, a Marriage in High 
Life " (1828), " The Exclusives," "The Separation" (1830), 
"The Disinherited," "The Ensnared" (1834), "The 
Devoted " (1836), " The Divorced," " Love " {1837), 
" Family Records," " The History of a Flirt " {1840), and 
" The Manoeuvring Mother " (1842). Her books sold well 
and she obtained (says N. P. Willis) as much as £zoo for 
each of these sentimental tales. In addition she published 
a work in verse, " The Three Sanctuaries of Tuscany," 
in 1833, which was, owing to her husband's illustrations, 
of real value, and several reUgious books, the title of 
one of which (published also in 1830) " Suspirium Sanc- 
torum ; or. Holy Breathings," cannot fail to remind us 
of Thackeray's "Heavenly Chords" in his paper on 
" The Fashionable Authoress." 

Lady Charlotte, after many tempestuous and wander- 
ing years, died, still beautiful, and, in spite of what ill- 

■ Her family, some of whom made brilliant marriages, consisted of : 
<i) Walter CampbeU of Islay ; (i) John ; (j) Elixa. m. Sir William 
Cnmmtng, Bart. ; (4] Eleonora, m. Lord Uxbridge, afterwards Marqnls 
of An^esey ; {5) Beaajolais, m. Earl of Charleville ; (6) Adelaide 
Constance, m. Lord Arthai Lennox ; (7) Emma, m. WiUiain Rossell. 
Esq. : (8) Julia, m. Langford -Brooke, Esq. She had one surviving 
daughtn by her second mairiage ; (9} Biaoca Bury, m. David Lyon. 



iDfonned writers say, by no means alone and negkctM,* 
but lovii^ly tend«i by her surviving daughters, Lady 
Arthur Leimox and Mrs. William Russell, at her own 
house, 91 Sbane Street, London, on March 31, 1861, 
having attained to the advanced age of eighty-six. 

In 1838 there had been published the book which, now 
known under her name, was then anonymous and entitled 
the " Diary Illustrative of the Times of George IV." It 
is said that Mr. Bury, wanting money ,t " took poesession 
of" Lady Charlotte's private journal, never intended 
for publication, that he "made a few alterations and 
additions, introducing some remarks on Lady Charlotte 
by way of disguise, and published it without her know- 
ledge, adding many letteis addressed to her." To this 
were added very pharisaical notes and a few fiMn- 
embellishments or disguises, and the whole was printed 
with many internal evidences of hasty preparation for 
the Press. It had at once un sttccis de scandttle and an 
immense sale. Of the " Literary Gazette ** of Almack*s, 
which indicated some of the characters, 5000 copies alcHie 
were sold. It was fiercely attacked in the reviews, which 
said it was vulgar, untrustworthy, unreliable or vulgar 
as they chose, and the best-known criticism which tore it 
to pieces was W. H. Thackeray's satire, " Skimmings from 
the Diary of George IV.," by C. YeUowplosh, Esq. But 
though Thackeray had nothing too bad to say of the 
diary itself, this did not prevent him quoting some of 
its most prq^ant passages when he desired to use them 
as brilliant illustrations of his inmiortal " Four Georges." 

The extent of the Lady Charlotte's complicity in the 
pubUcation of the Diary has been variously stated. 

* E.g. " Queeaa of Beauty," by W. Willmott Dixon. 1 vda. 1907. 

t Stt " Tbre« Generatioos of FascioatinK Women," p. 301. by Lady 
Chariotte Campbell's giuid-daogbter, Lady RumsII of Swallowfield ; 
but u the Rev. Edward John Bury died, aged forty-two. in Hay 1832, 
tbia mv*t mean that he took pcesession of the journal and letters some 
time before the book was actually pnblished. 



bat that the Diary — save for a few disguising facts 
— was the work of herself alone cannot possibly be 
denied. In spite of the " disguise " every one coupled 
her name with it, and indeed the thinness of the veil was 
obvious. Tom Hood penned the following lines : 
The poor dear dead have been laid out in vain, 
Tum'd into cash, they are laid out again ! 

When I resign this world so briery. 

To have across the Styx my ferrying, 
O, may I die without a DIARY ! 
And be interr'd without a BURY-ing ! 
which showed to whom popular rumour attributed the 
book. The Eail of Albemarle (1799-1891) quotes it 
in his " Fifty Years of My Life," as does Karoline Baner 
in her " Memoirs," as of her authorship. Many of her 
friends were indignant when they saw it and did not wish 
to meet her, and Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, Lady Char- 
lotte's own correspondent, wrote in a natural fury at its 
publication. " I cannot express my vexation about the 
book 3rou mention ... in all my reading and experience 
I never knew anything of the land. When I wrote the 
silly, impertinent letters in question, between twenty and 
thirty years ago, I knew that I was writing to the Duke of 
Aigyle's daughter, and thought myself safe by all the 
common rules of good breeding and morality. But I find 
I was extremely deceived. I could say more on this 
head, but my gratitude gets the better of my spleen, for I 
am eternally bound to remember that Lady Charlotte 
Bury is Lady Wemyss* sister-in-law and Mr. Campbell's 

The Diary gives, however, what no other book does, an 
account of the curious and undignified Court of Caroline, 
Princess of Wales, at home and abroad, and, ptu^ed of 
many of the unnecessary pharisaical notes which have 
disfigured the former editions, we now present it in this 



new fonn. From the facts it records about the life of 
the Princess, in spite of her continual indiscretions, 
and feeling the gravest sorrow at the continual persecu- 
tion she experienced at the hands of the despicable 
Prince Regent, "the First Gentleman in Europe," we 
cannot, like the writer heiself, help compassionating 
the unfortunate Princess of Wales, whose Court it 
describes. Nor do we fail to reprobate his mother, 
"The Good Queen Charlotte," of whose extraordi- 
narily harsh conduct towards her daughter-in-law and 
Princess Charlotte we get some very striking instances, 
entirely on a par with her harsh rule which caused all her 
sons to revolt and had unedifying results within her 
family circle itself, which we hope will never be fully 
chronicled. We are shown not only how the Princess of 
Wales, whose marriage was inauspicious, and from the 
start unhappy, was made use of as a tool, first by one 
political party and then by another, but also how very few 
politicians had her own cause at heart. In spite of the 
contemptuous phrases used about her in the Piary, we 
cannot help thhiking that Lady Charlotte Campbdl did 
enact the part of a friend — ^though a very critiail one— 
towards her mistress at a perilous time. 

The character given of the Princess Charlotte is that of a 
h^h-spirited girl trjdng to grope for the right way in the 
midst of horrible domestic factions, and when we read 
this, together with what is recorded in the reminiscences 
of her boy friend, Lord Albemarle, and in the Autobio- 
graphy of Miss Knight, one of her Ladies-in-waiting, we 
begin to see how attractive she was and how the nation 
hoped for a good Queen in the ill-fated daughter of the 
selfish voluptuary the Prince Regent and his indiscreet 
consort ; a girl who had courage enough to say of her 
parents, "My mother was wicked, but she would not 
have turned so wicked had not my father been much 
more wicked still." 



There have been several previous editions of this book, 
one of which was reviewed as if a new work by a contem- 
poraiy, so little was it known, but this differs from them 
all. Etesides the omission of the honible italics and 
many of the imnecessary and disgusting original notes, 
•wbidi perii^s wete inspired by Colbum or John Gait, 
and the unnecessary account of the " Public Characters " 
and the '* Regency and Reign of George IV.," we have 
made an important change in the text of the " Diary " 
itself. The names left blank in the former editions (the 
more important were always but thinly veiled and often 
explained in an explanatory foot-note) have, ^ere 
possible, been filled up (although placed in brackets that 
the modem addition may be easily noticed) from old 
annotated copies, and these names will be further filled 
up, if possible, in future editions. Now that so long a time 
has elapsed since the Diary was first given to the world 
this can do no harm, and we hope that the few biographical 
notes which are added will make the book more interesting 
to the modem reader of the history of the Regency. 




Lady CtMUorre Busy. Frem a fttMting by Alexan- 
der Bimkky, (Photogravnre) FruMtttea 

Lady Chaklotte Cahfbbll. Fr»m ait ettgraving by 

C. ffiiiia after a faintiMg by Htppner Tt/nafmf 50 

Cakoukb, Pkinciss of Walu. Frvm om eMp-ammg iy 
I. MMtfiy a/kr a painting by Smbard in the eaUec- 
tion tfMr. Jebn Lane „ 64. 

The Honku. Mm, Daubl Tram an engraving by 

Hifmmd after a fainting bj G. C. „ i)6 

FnAhCBS^ CouMTBU OF JiKiEV. From on ewgroving by 

Tiomdt fFattan after a painting by "D. Gar Jnar „ 160 

Marie Uouiu. Frem a painting by an unknown Artitt 

{Grrardf) „ 174 

Joachim Murat and his Wifb Caroline Bohapartb, 
King amd Quieh of Naflbs. Frtm an tngrating 
by Cbanbard after Laftnd „ joo 

Paulinb BoHAPARrn. From a panel in the peuetiien ef 

Mr. Join Lane it6 

Madaue de Stael n 4°* 





COURTS are strange, mysterious places : — ^those 
who pretend most to despise them seek to gain 
admittance within their precincts ; those who 
once obtain an entrance there generally lament 
their fate, and yet, somehow or other, cannot break their 
chains. I beheve, also, that it makes httle differencp 
whether those circles of society, which stand apart from 
the rest of the world, exist micfer one form of government, 
or under another ; whether mider Emperors, Kings, 
Protectors or Consuls. They may vary as to modes and 
designations ; but courts are courts still, and have been 
so from the earliest times. Intrigues, jealousies, heart- 
burnings, lies, dissimulation, thrive in them as mushrooms 
in a hot-bed. Nevertheless, they are necessary evils, and 
they afford a great school both for the heart and head. 
It is utterly impossible, so long as the world exists, that 
^milar societies should not exist also ; and one may as 
well declaim against every other defect attendant upon 
human institutions, and endeavour to extirpate crime 
from the world, as pretend to put down courts and their 
coQcomitant evils. 



December, i8lo. — Lady M[ary] C[oke] called upon me 
by appointment ; and we went together to Her Royal 
Highness the Duchess of B[runswic]k.* She thought 
more of me than she had ever done before, because I was 
on the road to ro3ral favour ; she herself being in her own 
estimation an engrafted sprig of rosralty.f We rumbled 
in her old tub all the way to New Street, Spring Gardens, 
much to the discomfiture of my bones ; for, if the vehicle 
ever had sprii^, time has stMened their joints as com- 
pletely as it has done those of its soi-disant royal mistress. 
Lady M[ary] C[oke] was grandly gracious, and gave me 
dissertations on etiquette, such as it existed in her young 
dajre, till we reached our destination. We were ushered 
into the dirtiest room I ever beheld, empty, and devoid 
of comfort. A few filthy lamps stood on a sideboard ; 
common chairs were placed around very dingy walls ; 
and, in the middle of this empty space, sat the old Duchess, 
a melancholy specimen of decayed royalty. There is 
much goodness in her countenance, and a candour and 
sincerity in her manner, and even in her abrupt and rough 
conversation, which are invaluable in a person of her rank, 
whose life must necessarily have been passed in the society 
of those whose very essence is deceit. Her former friend- 
ship for friends very dear to me, of whom she spoke in 
terms of respect and love, gave an interest to the visit 
which it could not otherwise have h^. I sat, therefore, 
patientiy listening to Lady M[ary] C[oke] and Her Royal 

* Angnsta, widow of Carl II., Duke of Bninswick, She was Princess 
RoyKl of England, daughter of Frederick, Prince of Wales, sister of 
George HI., and mother of Caroline, Princess of Wales. She arrived 
In England July 7, 1S07, and died March 23, 1813. 

t If Lady M C— — means I^ady tSaxy Coke, it is well known 

she supposed herself to be the widow of the antecedent Duke of York ; 
for when her mother one day found the Duke in her apartment, and 
rated her for the impropriety of het conduct, she drew herself np 
with ineffable dignity, and replied, " Madam, do yon know whom yon 
are talking to ? You are talking to the Duchess of York." [Original 
note.] Lady Mary Coke (173&-1811) was the youngest daughter of 
John Campbell, Duke of A^U. She had been unhappily married. 



Highnesa, who talked of lords and ladies of the last 
century, and wondered at those of the present, and 
passed trippingly over the peccadillos of their own con- 
temporaries, to vent all their moral indignation upon 
those of mine. 

Old Mr. I^ivingsto]ne * was announced : poor man, 
what did he get by his attendance on royalty ? the ill- 
will of all parties. He knows many things which, if told, 
would set Ix>ndon on fire. Soon after his entrance, Lady 
M[ary] C[ofce] arose, and, kicking her train behind her, 
backed out of the room in capital style. How the heart 
dilat^ or closes in the presence of different persons 1 
It most surely be very unwholesome to be with those in 
whose society the latter is the case. 

Went to Kensington — a great ball — everybody of the 
highest fashion — Dukes of Portland and Beaufort, Earl 
Harrowby,t &c., &c. As I always wished the royal hostess 
well I was glad to observe that the company then fre- 
quenting the palace were of the best. I sat down by 
smne oM friends, and felt that to be near them was a 
comfort, surrounded as I was by persons for whom I 
cared not, and who cared not for me ; but the Princess 
beckoned to me, and taking my arm, leant upon it, 
parading me aroimd the apartments. The inner room 
was set out with refreshments, and a profusion of gold 
plate ; which, by the way, in after times I never saw. 
Was it taken away, or was it otherwise disposed of ? 
Sofas were placed around the tables, and the whole thing 
was well managed. 

Her Royal Highness wished the company to come into 

• Mr. Livingstone, the tutor of aome of the Princ«3, a good dull 
man. [Original note.] 

t These noblemen ajid their wives continued to visit Her Royal 
Highness the Princess of Wales till the King was declared too ill to 
reign, and the Prince became in fact Regent ; then those ladies dis- 
appeared that moment from Kensington, and were never seen there 
more. It was the besom of expediency, which swept them all away. 
[Original note.] 



this banquetting room ; but, either out of respect, and 
not knowing whether they ought to do so or not, or because 
they preferred the outer room, no one would come in, 
except Lady 0[xfor]d, Lord H. Fitzgerald, and Lord 
G£owe3r, who was forcibly seized upon by Lady 0[xfor]d.* 
Altc^ether, in my quality of looker-on, I could not but 
think that lady was no honour to society ; and it was only 
surpnsing to remark in her instance, as well as in that of 
many others, how well impudence succeeds, even with the 
mild and the noble, who are often subdued by its arrogant 
assumption of command. 

The Princess complained of the weight of some jewels 
she wore in her head, and said they gave her the head- 
ache ; then, turning to a peison who was evidently a 
favourite, asked, " May I not take them off now that the 
first parade is over ? " He replied in his own doucereux 
voice, " Your Royal Highness is the best judge ; but, 
now that you have shown off the munificence of the 
ornament, I think it would be cruel that you should 
condemn yourself to suffer by wearing it longer. In 
my opinion, you will be just as handsome with- 
out it." 

I was convinced, from the manner in which these words 
were spoken, that that man loved her. Poor soul 1 of 
all those on whom she conferred benefits, I think he was 
the only man or woman who could be said to have loved* ^ 
her, — and he ought not to have done so. 

I dined again at Kensington. There were assembled 
a company of the very first persons of the realm. I iiras 
glad to see that what had been told me of low company 
was not true. 

* The beantifal Ladjr Oxford, whose portrait by Hoppner b in the 
NationRl C^Uery, London. She was Jane Elizabeth, daughter of the 
Rev. James Scott. Vicar of Itchin. Hants, and had married, in 1794. 
Edwaid Harley, 5th Earl of Oxford. Her gallantries with Lord 
ByioD and others were well known, and her cbildren were known as 
" the Harieian miaceUany." She died November 30, 1S34. 



Wednesday, gth, 1810.— This day, I found Her Ro3ral 
Highness sitting for her picture. She received me with 
her usual gradousness of manner, and desired m^ to 
" come and sit," her phrase for feehng comfortable and 

at one's ease. She informed me that Mr. S[ ], the 

painter engaged upon the picture, was only altering the 
costume of a portrait taken many years back ; which, 
she said, was by no means doing his talent justice. Cer- 
tainly the picture was frightful, and I have often r^retted 
that I never saw a tolerable likeness painted of her. 
Although during the last jrears of her life she was bloated 
and disfigured by sorrow, and by the life she led, the 
Princess was in her early youth a pretty woman ; fine 
light hair — very delicatdy formed features, and a fine 
complexion — quick, glancing, penetrating eyes, long cut 
and rather sunk in the head, which gave them much 
expression — and a remarkably delicately formed mouth. 
But her head was always too large for her body, and her 
neck too short ; and, latterly, her whole figure was like a 
ball, and her counte^pice became hardened, and an 
expression of defiance and boldness took possession of it, 
that was very tmpleasant. Nevertheless, when she chose 
to assume it, she had a very noble air, and I have seen her 
on more than one occasion put on a dignified carriage, 
which became her much more than the affectation of 
girlishness which she generally preferred. 

To-day, I received the following letter from my friend 
" Matt Lewis " ; — ^ 

The only news which is likely to be very interestlDg to you 
is, that I have got a violent cold ; and that, too, can scarcely 
be called news, for I have now had it about a week. Perhaps 
yon may think this a subject of much interest to mys«^, 
bat of very little to yon ; but I can assure you that yon are 
likely to feel the bad effects of it, for it makes me so cross 
and so stnind that you must not expect to find in this letter 



the slightest scrap of good natoie or the feintest spaik of 

Since yon left town, I have been to Brocket Hall, and 
passed ten very pleasant days there, m trio, with William * 
and Lady Caroline Lamb. I was at Kensington, both Satur- 
day and Sunday last, and dine there again to-mmrow. The 
Princess was quite well ; very anxious about the dear good 
King ; talked a great deal about you, and expressed much 
impatience for a letter from you, giving an account of the 
wedding, and its antecedents and consequences. 

Nothing is talked of but the fluctuations in the King's 
health, and the probable consequences, till I am wearied to 
death of the eternal discussion. Sometimes, be is said to be 
so much better that Parliament is to be immediately pro- 
rogued ; then he is considerably worse, and the Prince is to 
be appcnnted Regent, with full powers, the next day. The 
King's situation is so doubtful that Perceval is resolved to 
protract measures as much as possible, and the regal power 
is at present to be confided to a commission of Lords Justices ; 
then again, the Prince, and the King and the Lords Justices, 
are all to be laid on the shelf together, and the regency is to 
be vested in Ifer Majesty Queen Charlotte. 

All these projects in their turns are sifted, and supported, 
and contradicted, and laid down again, leaving one, at the 
end of the discussion, Just as ignorant and as confused as 
at the beginning. So that I grow quite wearied and impa- 
tient with the subject, and am in the precise situatitm of 
Sir Philip Francis, when the Prince was telling him a long 
loosing story, which still went on and went on, without 
coming to a conclusion : " Well, Sir ? well. Sir ? " cried Sir 
Philip, out of all patience — " Wdl, Sir, well I and vibat then. 
Sir ? what then ? " At last, the Prince said, " Why, what's 
the matter with you. Sir Frands ? what do you trant ? " 
" Want, Sir, want ? What's the matter with me ? Sir, I 
want a result." And this is precisely the only thing now 
which I want to hear about the Regency. M<M%over, it is 
at least certain that latterly the King's general health is 
worse than it was ; in particular, he has lately had an 
internal ccmiplaint, which in his peculiar drcmnstances is 
said frequently to be the foremoner of idiotcy, 
* Aftemrapk l-ord HelbonmF. 



Fot my own part, I am for having the Queen at the bead 
of the government. It is certain, that having a man there 
has as yet produced but little good i^ainst Bonaparte, and 
therefore I should like to try a woman. Who Imows, but 
the Queen may be the very woman mentioned in the Reve- 
lations, who is destined to be crowned with glory, and conquer 
the beast ; and, therefore, as soon as she is appointed regent, 
I would immediately have her send a challenge to Bonaparte ; 
decide the whole dispute by single combat ; ^nd, if she will 
but follow the example of that illustrious heroine, the Princess 
Rnsty Fusty, in settit^ her back against a tree, and defending 
herself with her fan and her scissors, I make no doubt she will 
have the same success, and lay the holy Roman Emperor 
dead at her feet. 

In the midst of all these political speculations, Lord Grey 
has made the disputants a low bow, and has gone back to 
Northomberland, to remain there till the middle of January. 
I asked Lord Lauderdale, if Lord Gre3''5 friends did not 
find fault with his being out of the way at such a moment. 
" By no means," answered he with great gravity, " Lady 
Grey is to be confined very soon, and he sacrifices everything 
to tiie consideration of his wife. He was quite in the right. 
I always do the same thing." 

London is very full, and the Duchess of Gordon has had 
some good assemblies. The Princess of Wales Uves quietly ; 
never has above four or five people at dinner, and has quite 
given up going to the jAay ; though she owns, she considers 
this a very great privation. I have been teased into prcsnising 
to pot together some showy spectacle for Covent Garden ; 
and the Princess insists on its not beii^ produced before 
Easter Monday, as she says that, till then, she has no hopes 
of being allowed to visit the theatre. 

I am quite impatient for your return to town, not only 
because I shall be very glad to see you again, but for your 
own sake, that you may see La Perouse. I am certain you 
will be pleased with it, out of all measure. I saw it the other 
night, and was quite delighted ; and I promise myself great 
pleasure in seeing the pleasure which it will give you. There 
is besides a new actress, a Miss Booth, who promises to be the 
greatest acquisition that the stage has made for miuiy years. 
She [days Mrs. Jordan's characters with great sprightlmess : 



a very pretty little figure (but not a very pretty face, at 
least, to my taste) ; great inteUigeoce, much appearance of 
sensibility and ttafvetf, and, above all, a voice very sweet, 
touching, and so articulate that it can be heard all over the 
house, even in a whisper. She dances, too, remarkably well, 
and is very good in pantomime. The only thing in which 
she fails, is her singing, which is abcnninable ; but I trust, 
(as she is to set hOTself to the study of music immediately, 
with all her might and main,) perhaps, she may mend tMs 

How do you like Thalaba ? There are always so many 
nothings to be done in London daily, that I have not read 
ten lines for the last ten weeks, till I came to Holland House, 
where I have galloped through two volumes of lladame 
Du Deffand's Letters, and with much amusement, thot^h 
the anecdotes are in themselves of no great value ; stfll, 
being written on the spot, and at the moment, they have a 
vivacity and interest whidi make one read letter after letter 
without weariness. The extracts from Lord Orford's letters 
contain frequently excellent things ; and indeed, in Madame 
Du DeSand's own general observations, there is much good 
sense and plain truth ; but that sense and truth, being gene- 
rally grounded upon knowledge of the world, and experience 
of its inhabitants, it unfortunately follows, of course, that 
the information which it conveys must be of a disagreeable 
and humiliating comi^exion. But what puts me out of all 
patience, and seems to me quite hard-hearted, is Lord Orford's 
perpetually torturing the poor old blind woman, upon her 
vanity and her indiscretion, and producing all her defects 
before her in terrible array, and tiiat too, in the most un- 
qualified language. Could be expect, that at eighty, she 
wonld core herself of her faults, or that if time had not 
rendered her discreet, his lectures would ! — and if being 
indiscreet contributed to her amusement, in the name 
of Heaven, why (situated as she was) should she not 
be so 7 I really think that this [dain dealing with a poor 
old blind woman, who had passed her eighty long years in 
frivolity, vanity and dissipation, something barbarous ; and 
I cannot see any purpose which this opening her eyes to her 
imperfections could possibly answer, except that of vexing 
and mortifying her; for, as to correcting her, she must 



have been long past that, and the idea was ridiculous ; thot^h, 
to be sure, the poor old soul frequently promises to set about 
the amendment o{ her faults, as if she was a little school girl ; 
which is, in truth, almost as ridiculous as the advice. 

Have you read these Letters ? You know, of course, 
that they were edited by your friend. Miss Beiry, who has 
also written the Preface, the Life, and the Notes, all of which 
are most outrageously abused by many persons, though, in 
my opinion, without any just grounds. 
Believe me, 

Ever youis truly, 

(Signed) H. G. Lewis. 

Thursday, December. — ^This was the Princess's birth- 
day. I went to pay my respects. Her Ro3?al Highness 
was very iniudidously attired — wrapped in a pink 

dressing-^own. Lady C[ ]n was with her ; she seemed 

grievously tired of the latter, who in truth appears to be a 
dull woman, and there is an expression in her features 
of something veiy like deceit, and a sneer, which makes 
me grave in despite of myself. Shortly after her depar- 
ture, came the Duke of Brunswick. He paid his sister 
a set compliment, and gave her a ring of no value. — 
(N.B. All princes and princesses give shabby presents.) 

The Duke of Brunswick * is very near being a handsome 
man. His figure is light and graceful ; and were it not 
that he carries his head ill, he would be a noble looking 
person. His eyes are deep sunk in his heaA, more so than 
I ever saw in any one, and his brows are remarkably 
prominent, with shaggy eyebrows. This circumstance 
gives him a sombre expression, and indeed the whole cast 
of bis countenance is gloomy ; but his features are r^ular ; 
and, when he smiles, there is a transitory sweetness which 
is very striking, by the contrast to his usual severity of 

■ William, Dake of Bninswick (1771-1815), mariied Princess Haric 
of Baden, wbo died in iSoS. Lord Albemajle describes him as " a 
Md and scunewhat stem-looking man with sunken eyes and bushy 
eyebrows, and, what was then seldom seen in England, a pair of 



expression. In maimer he is very reserved, — stifi and 
Gennanic. He remained some time conversing with his 
sister in German, eyeing the lady-in-waiting occa^onally 
askance. He seemed glad to take his leave. 

Her Royal Highness, the old Duchess of Brunswick, , 
next arrived, and still I was desired to remain. I thought 
this conference would never end ; and yet it seemed not 
to delight either party. What a factitious life ! The 
Duchess appears kind-hearted. The tears rolled down 
her cheeks as she said the poor Princess Ameha cannot 
hve ; she seemed really affected. I take her to be a 
kind-hearted upright woman, but not in the least clever ; 
very slow in her speech and in her comprehension ; whereas 
her daughter is precisely the reverse, and has no patience 
with the repetition of phrases, and the lengthiness of 
histories, for which, in fact, she feels no interest. 

To-day, I had the honour of meeting the Princess 
Charlotte, at her grandmother's. She is very clever, but 
has at present the manners of a hoyden school girl. She 
talked all sorts of nonsense to me. She is a fine piece of 
flesh and blood, but can put on dignity when she chooses, 
though it seems to sit uneasUy upon her. What will be 
her fate ? It is impossible not to feel an interest in any 
human being, upon whom such a weight of responsibility 
is placed. 

There is no company at the Duchess of Brunswick's, 
but the old women of the last century, and naturally the 
Princess calls this a duUificoHon. It is imwise for the old 
to foi^et they were once s^img. This it is which always 
puts the Princess out of humour when she is there, and 
she yawns and shows it. 

There was a Count Munster sat next to me at dinner, 
who seems quite ill-placed in a court ; for he appears to 
me to be a delightful and a particularly sincere person. 
He expresses himself on many subjects with great enthu- 
siasm, and has all the sentiment of a German. He said 



Italy was a country in which one should not live too long. 
I asked him, " Why ? " His reply was, " It is too 
delightful." The Princess of Wales told him, that what- 
ever little good she had in her, she owed it to his mpther, 
who had been her governess. 

One day, Her Koyal Highness said to me, '* If I always 
Uved with my cousins, the royal family, and, if they were 
kind to me, I should like them, and care for them ; but I 
cannot say, treatii^ me as they do, that I feel that affec- 
tion for them I should otherwise feel, except indeed for my 
dear old uncle ; and he, poor dear, is lost to me now. So I 
confess, all I am afraid of is, lest the Princess Amelia 
should die ; because I could not then get out to amuse 
myself." There was a levity in this confession, certainly, 
bat yet there was a sincerity in it, which made me augur 
well of the ingenuousness of her character. 

The royal family had sent her presents on her birth- 
day ; the Queen sent a very handsome aigrette, which the 
young Princess Charlotte observed was really pretty well, 
considering who sent it. She then laughed heartily, her 
own peculiar loud but musical laugh. 

To-day, I received the following letter from Her Royal 
Highness the Princess of Wales : — 

Monday, December lo, 1810. 

My Dbae, — I am Just on the point of setting out for the 
Priory, where I don't expect to be much enlivened, but go 
partly from dvility, and partly from coriosity, to mal^ the 
acquaintance with the " Ida of Athens," whidi I trust will 
gratify my search for knowledge, or my taste for quizzing. 

There is nothing new here under the sun, since you left 
the metropolis, and I lead literally the life of a recluse, for 
still public amusements are prohibited forthe present. Thanks 
to beaven, no Lord Chamberlain has been appointed yet, 
otherwise the dear operas would have b^on by this time, 
and I should have felt myself obliged to renounce this great 
amusement. The parties in Hanover Square are not more 



lively than they were last winter in Siting Gardens, except 
we miss the galanti show, which was exhibited, of. all tbe 
" old fograms, since the reign of George the First, which, I 
suppose, was intended to show the Terence that existed 
between them and the beauties of Charles the Second, painted 
by Sir Peter Lely. But I am afraid his pencil, as that of 
Titian, or of Marc [sic] Angelo, would never have succeeded 
in making them rivals of that happy century ; — their beauty 
was much more valued and praised, except there is one 
precedent, which will remain on record in the Argyll family.* 
Your letter arrived most welcomely, as there had been various 
reports about a suspension d'armes, an armistice, or a retreat, 
resembling that of Blassena ; but all this puff must have been 
merely raised by envy, love of gossip, and newsmongers. 

I intend to go to Blackheath, l^efore Christmas, to take 
in an additional stock of health, and strength, and spirits 
for the winter campaign, which I suspect will be rather 
longer than usual. Parliament having met so early. Black- 
heath will be called Le Palais des . . .f, as the sleep will 
be the most predominant amusement and relaxation ; other- 
wise, I would feel myself dans I'ordre de la Trappe, b^ng with 
my lay sister, Mrs. Lisle, who has taken her resemblance from 
the living skeleton. If anybody would take the pains to 
write my biography, they would inform the pubUc that for 
some secret and dreadfid crime this penance was inflicted 
upon me. This is the way one may vouch for the historian's 
veracity. But as I flatter myself, that this wonderful pro- 
duction of epistolary puimii^ will remain in the archives of 

the illustrious family of the , that upon record, matter 

of fact reasons of my absence from Kensington wiU be known. 
Believe me, for ever, 

Your most sincere, 

(Signed) C. P. 

The above letter may convey to posterity an idea of 
the kind of ill-assorted matter which filled the mind of 
this unfortunate Princess. But something must be 
attributed to her want of knowledge of the English 

* 1 mppOM Her Royal Higlmesa alladed to Lady Charlotte Camp- 
bell, the beant]' of the Argyll family of that day. [Original note.] 
t This word is illegible in the original letter. 



language ; and much indulgence may be extended to a 
peison in Her Royal Higtmess's situation, who was con- 
stantly goaded, publicly and privately, to irritation — a 
fact, which she was too proud to acknowledge, but which 
made her take refuge in an afiected jocularity, and a 
pretence to wit, 

Mr. Ward is frequently one of the Kensington guests. 
He is certainly a clever man. Indeed, there is a great 
and laudable wish on the part of the Princess to attract 
extraordinary persons around her. This desire properiy 
directed might turn to her own advantage, and that of 
those who belong to her ; but it evaporates in vanity, 
and produces no effectual improvement in her society. 
Mr. Ward * is a man concerning whom great expectations 
are formed, and various parties look at him as a card 
which, in their own hands, they might like to play ; but 
there is something uncertain and wayward about him, 
which just as one is going to like hhp, prevents one's 
doing so ; though I was very near the mark the other 
night, in favour of what he said of the Moon. The 
Princess calls Mr. Forbes f Mr. Fob. There is something 
ludicrously appropriate in this mispronunciation, I 
cannot teU why. 

Again, I received a note from Her Royal Highness ; 
the following is a curious extract from it : — 

The only astonishing news I can ofier you is, that the 
Regent is dangerously ill ; still I am not sanguine enough 
to flatter myself that the period to all my troubles and 
misfortunes is yet come. Yet one must hope for the best. 
Ever yours, 

C. P. 

This day, dined at Kensington, en petit comiU : no 
servants, but dumb waiters. These dinners are peculiarly 

* Afterwards Lord Dudley. [Part of original note.] 
t Now Uinister at Dresden, a remarkably clever, agreeaUe pecsoo, 
[Original note.] 



agreeable — ^nothii^ to impede the flow of soul, whatever 
there may be of the feast of reason. The Princess gave a 
long detailed account of her marriage, and the circum- 
stances which brought it about. " I, — you know, was the 
victim of mammon ; the Prince of Wales's debts must be 
paid, and poor little I's person was the pretence. Par- 
liament would vote supplies for the Heir-Apparent's 
marriage ; the King would help his little help. A Pro- 
testant Princess must be found — they fixed upon the 
Prince's cousin. To tell you God's truth, [a favourite 
expression,} I always hated it ; but to obl^e my father, 
any thing. But the first moment I saw my /«/«f and 
Lady J[erse]y together, I knew how it all was, and I said 
to mj'self, ' Oh, very well ! ' I took my psirtie — and so it 
would have been, if — but, Oh, mine Goid ! " she added, 
throwing up her bead, " I could be the slave of a man I 
love ; but one whom I love not, and who did not love me, 
impossible — c'est autre chose," She went on to say : — 

" One of the civil things His Royal Highness did just 
at first, was to find fault with my shoes ; and, as I was 
very jroung and hvely in those da3'S, I told him to make me 
a better pair, and bring them to me. I brought letters 
from all the Princes and Princesses to him, from all the 
petty courts, and I tossed them to him, and said, ' Tliere — 
that's to prove I'm not an impostor 1 ' " 

Lady Oxford observed, " Well, Madam, it is the most 
surprising thing in the world, that the Prince was not 
desperately in love with your Royal Highness." " Not 
at dUX," she replied ; " in the first place, veiy few husbands 
love their wives ; and I confess, the moment one is obliged 
to marry any person, it is enough to render them hateful. 
Had I come over here as a Princess, with my father, on a 
visit, as Mr. Pitt once wanted my father to have done, 
things might have been very different : but what is done 
cannot be undone." y |r ,, , *• t 

" What a delightful court we should have now," said one 



of the party, " if Her Royal Highness was Queen ! " "I 
never wish to be Queen," repUed the Princess ; " the 
Queen's mother is enough for me." 

Lord Abercom was, at this time, a great friend of the 
Princess's ; he frequently wrote to her, and was very 
curious to know how she got on with a new person who 
had lately come to her court. This lady had once been 
in his society, but had not seen him for years : " I will 
not satisfy his curiosity," said the Princess ; " let him 
come and see " ; but he came not. 

To-day, the Rincess was in one of her most communica- 
tive humours. Poor thing ! she was always looking about 
for some one to pour out her heart to, and never found 
cme. Some dared not hsten to her, others would not, and 
others again, did so only to answer their own purposes ; 
but, as she was quick at reading characters, she often sent 
the latter upon a wrong scent, which was amusing enough. 
In general, when I had the honour of being invited to 
Kensington, I avoided all questions, and endeavoured 
neither to deceive nor be deceived ; but sometimes it 
was next to impossible not to ask a question, or make an 
observation, which the next moment was repented of. 
For instance, when she inveighed against England and the 
British Court, I asked her if she had left Brunswick 
with r^ret : " Not at all ; I was sick, tired of it ; but I 
was sorry to leaye my father. I loved my father dearly, 
better nor any oder person " ; and the tears poiued over 
her face. " I will tdl you," she went on to say, and she 
mastered her emotion — " I will tell jrou, there is none 
affection more powerful than dat we feel for a good fader ; 
but dere were some unlucky tings in our court, which 
made my position difficult. My fader was most entirely 
attached to a lady for thirty years, who in fact weis his 
mistress ; she was the beautifullest creature, and the 
cleverest ; but, though my father continued to pay my 
rooder all possible respect, my poor moder could not 



suffer this attachment ; and de consequence was, I did 
not know what to do between them ; when I was civil to 
the one, I was scolded by the other, and was very tired 
of being shuttlecock between them." 

The Princess had a custom, when she drove out, of 
never giving an order, but pointing to the quarter to 
which she wished to be driven. The postillion watched 
her eye, and with wonderful quickness took the direction 
which it (and it alone, veiy often) designated. I have 
wondered sometimes, what this dumb show mystery meant. 
I can only account for it by beUeving that royal persons 
divert themselves with very puerile devices, and that they 
play at secrets, as children do at hide-and-seek. 

The Princess sometimes goes to see the Duke of Bruns- 
wick's two boys.* She climbs to the very top of a house 
at Vauxhall, where they are hving, and having talked 
for some time to them, goes away again. These visits 
do not seem to afford either party much pleasure. She 
complains that the boys are frightful to look upon. 

The Princess often does the most extraordinary things, 
apparently for no other purpose than to make her atten- 
dants stare. Very frequently, she will take one of her 
ladies along with her, to walk in Kensington Gardens — 
all the party being dressed — [it may be] in a costume very 
unsuited to the pubUc highway ; and, all of a sudden, 
she will bolt out at one of the smaller gates, and walk all 
over Bayswater, and along the Paddington Canal, at the 
risk of being insulted, or, if known, mobbed — enjoying 
all the while the terror of the unforttmate attendant who 
may be destined to walk after her. One day. Her Royal 
Highness inquired at all the doors of Bayswater and its 
neighbourhood, if there were any houses to be let, and 
went into many of them, till at last she came to one, where 
some children of a friend of hers (Lord H. F.) were placed 
for change of air ; and she was quite enchanted at being 

■ Carl, bom October 30, 1S04 ; and William, born April 2$, t8o6. 



known by them, and at having to boast of her extra- 
ordinary mode of walking over the country. 

Sometimes, the Princess philosophizes : here is a sample 
of her philosophy. She said one day, " Suspense is very 
great bdre, but we Uve only de poor beings of de hour — 
and we ought always to try to make us happy so long we 
do live. To tell you God's truth," — ^her favourite expres- 
sion, not always used appropriately, — " To tell you God's 
truth, I have had as many vexations as most people ; 
but we must make up vans mind to enjoy de good, spite 
of de bad ; and I mind now de last no more than dat " — 
snapping her fingers. 

Princess Charlotte came pretty frequently to Kensing- 
ton at this epoch. Lady de Chfiord was then her gover- 
ness ; that is to say, so named ; for the Princess is her 
own governess. 

The Princess of Wales speaks highly of Mrs. Fitzherbert. 
She always says, " that is the Prince's true wife ; she is an 
excellent woman ; it is a great pity for him he ever broke 
vid her. Do you know I know de man who was present 
at his maniage, the late Lord BEradfor}!.* He declared 
to a friend of mine, that when he went to inform Mrs. Fitz- 
herbert that the Prince had married me, she would not 
believe it, for she knew she was herself married to him." 

The Princess took great pleasure in explaining the state 
of politics and parties. She thought she had it all at her 
finger's ends, because she had lived with*Canning and 
Perceval ; but she saw everything through the mist of her 
own passions and prejudices ; and, consequently, saw 
everything falsely. She used to say, " the nation will go 
safe enough, whoever are de ministers, so long as de King 
lives ; but when he dies every ting will be overturned. 
You will see — mark my words I The House of Commons 
do now busy themselves with trifles, which they had better 
let alone. ' Mais il faut Stre juste.' Ministers would 

* Oilando Bnd|;iiian, lat Eai-I of Bradford (1761-1835). 



never have brought in the Duke of York's business, had 
he not misled them. Had he told them the truth, con> 
fided in them, and said, I have committed a folly, save me 
from exposure, I will do so no more, he would have been 
saved, and de ccmstitution, too, perhaps ; for the business 
would have been hushed up. But no, his friends beheved 
that he was intact ; (our friends do more harm than 
enemies sometimes ;) they said the more the matter is 
investigated, the more it will be to his honour. " You saw 
how de matter turn out," — and she shrugged her shoulders. 
" I do assure you — to tell you God's truth, — ^had those 
letters been published, which were brought up, they 
might have produced a revolution ; for they not only told 
all that is true, but a great deal that is not true." 

The Princess was in the way of saying jocularly, " I 
have nine children." And, when her hearers laughed at 
the joke as such, she would say, " It is true, upon honour ; 
dat is to say, I take care of eight boj^ and one girl. De 
boys shall serve de king. My good friend. Sir J. B., will 
take care of some. The girl I took by a very romantic 
accident. In the time of the disturbances in Ireland, a 
man and woman, apparently of the better class, left a 
female infant with a poor old peasant woman, who hves 
at Blackheath, and with the infant, a sum of money 
suf&cient to support it a certain time. But the time 
elapsed, the money was spent, and no one came to supply 
the old woman with means for the babe's future exigencies. 
So she came to me, and told her story, and asked what 
she should do. At first I thought of putting the child to 
the parish ; but somehow I could not bear that ; so it 
ended in my taking charge of the infant entirely at my 
own expense. She is now at school at Bath, under the 
care of a Mrs. Twiss, sister oi Mrs. Siddons. I have not 
seen the child for five years, and do not mean to see her 
till she is grown up : she is now twelve years old." 

" It appears to me," said the Princess, one day, " that 



jealousy and politics are untying the knot of Lord A[rchi- 
bald] H[ainiltonTs • love for Lady O[xfor]d. It is said 
that Lady 0[xfor]d visits Mr. O'Connell and Sir F[rancis] 
B[urdet]t every day, and Lord A[rchibal]d does not 
approve ; but the greater reason still, is, that the Lady 
prefers Lord G[owe]r." 

The Princess's villa at Blackheath is an incongruous 
piece of- patch-work. It may dazzle for a moment, when 
lighted up at night ; but it is all glitter, and glare, and 
trick ; everything is tinsel and trumpery about it ; it 
is altogether like a bad dream. 

One day, the Princess showed me a large book, in 
which she had written characters of a great many of the 
leading persons in England. She read me some of them. 
They were drawn with spirit, but I could not form any 
opinion of their justice ; fiist, because a mere outline, 
however boldly sketched, cannot convey a faithful por- 
traiture of character ; and, secondly, because many of 
the persons mentioned therein were unknown to me. 
Upon the whole, these characters impressed me with a 
h^h opinion of her discenuuent and power of expression. 
Not that it was good English, but that it was strong 
sense. But how dangerous ! If that book exists, it 
would form a curious episode in the memoirs of those 

The Princess told one of her friends one day, who 
repeated it to me, that her life had been an eventful one 
from her earliest years ; that at one period, she was to 
have been married to the uncle of the Queen of Prussia ; 
at another, to the Prince of Orange ; at another, to this 
Queen's brother : — the tatter, she said, was a most agree- 
able man, not at all t^ly, and very pleasant in bis manners 
— that she bad liked him very much as a friend, but nothing 

* Lord ArchibaJd Hamilton was son of Arctubald, gtb I>ake of 
Hunilton. ai>^ brother of Lady Anne Hamilton, so often mentioned 
in this Diary. He wu bom in 1769 and died in 1837, unmarried. 


more. — Prince Geoi^e of Darmstadt (I think that was 
the name she gave the Queen of Prussia's uncle) was a 
very handsome man, tall, s%ht, yet not too thin. *' He 
turned all de. women's heads except mine. I like him 
very much, but he was very perfide to me — a false per- 
fidious fnend. It was he who was the lover of the late 
Queen of France, and he was the real father of the last 
Dauphin. Just before I came to this country, I was 
very tmhappy. My father said to me, if I woi^d marry 
on the continent, he never wished to get rid of me, or to 
said me away ; but if I was determined to marry, that 
this situation which presented itself seemed sent by 
Providence to my advantage, and he would not suffer 
me to sUght it. So, as a drowning wretch catches at a 
straw, I caught at this crown and sceptre. But, if I bad 
not been miraculously supported, I could not have out- 
hved all I have done : there are momaits when one is 
supematurally helpjed." The Princess became very grave 
after this conversation, and soon retired. 

The Princess of Wales is not what I think a female 
character should be ; but she has a bold and independent 
mind, which is a principal ingredient in the formation of 
a great queen, or an illustrious woman. 

The Princess Charlotte always dines with her mother 
on Saturdaj^. This day her Royal Highness came with 
Lady de Clifford and the Duke of Brunswick. As soon 
as she grows intimate with any one, she gives way to her 
natural feelings, and there is an openness and candour 
in her conversation, which are very captivating. I pity 
her that she is bom to be a queen. She would be a much 
happier being if she were a private individual. I cannot 
make out what the Duke of Brunswick's character really 
is. The Princess of Wales seems fond (^ him ; yet, as 
she never speaks openly of him, I conceive there is some- 
thing about bim whidi does not please her. A son of 
Lord H. F[it2geral]d dined at k[enangto]n, a boy of 



about fourteen years of age,* who appeared uncommonly 
clever and very agreeable. He is being educated at 
Westminster. I asked him many questions about the 
school, which be answered most intdligently ; but, from 
all I have seen, the Etonians aie more polished. 

Lady de ClifEord f seems to be a good natured, common- 
place person, and the jroung Princess appears attached 
to her, which is a good indication of her ladyship's 

The dinner over, which always weighs heavily on the 
Princess when composed of a family party only. Her 
Royal Highness recovered her natural gaiety. As soon 
as she returned to the drawing-room, she b^an talking 
eagerly to Lady de Clifiord en tHe-d-tHe. The Princess 
Charlotte ran from one end of the room to the other to 
fetch herself a chair. I rose and said bow shocked I was, 
that Her Royal Highness had not commanded me to do 
her bidding. " Oh ! " said her mother, " I assure you 
she likes it ; it is an amusement for her ; she is kept so 
very strict, it is like feeling herself at liberty to 3y about, 
— ^is it not Lady de Clifiord ? " To which the latter 
repUed sharply, " I assure your Royal Highness, the 
Princess Charlotte has Uberty enough with me." This 
retort again produced a stiffness, ^d the time seemed to 
drag on heavily, imtil the Princess Charlotte and the Duke 
of Brunswick withdrew, when we went to the Opera, 

Mr. Ward, Mr. H. F[it2geral>i, Mr. L{uttre]U, Mr. 
Lewis, Mr. North, and Mr. Macdonald came to pay their 
respects in her box. Mr. Lewis, the author of " The 
Honk," was not, however, a very suitable attendant upon 
royalty. Mr. Ward was clever and pleasing ; but her 
Royal Highness was not, upon the whole, much flattered 
by her visitors, neither^had she much cause to be so. 

• Afterwmrds jjrd Lord de Roa, bora September i, 179;. 
t Sophia, daughter of Samuel Cajnpbell of Mount Campbell, eo. 
Lettrim, married, 1765, the 17th Baron de CliSord. She died tSaS. 



Sunday. — There was, as is customary on this day, a 
large party at Kensington ; but it was not so pleasant a 
dinner as usual, forthe Duchess of R[utlan]d and her 

daughter, with Lady S[ ]y and her daughter also, 

rendered it rather fonnal, and it troubled the Princess 
to make herself agreeable to them. 

Aiter dinner, there was an addition of Mrs. Poole,* 
Mrs. Lock,! Lady Dunmore, &c., and professional singers 
— Pucitti, his wife, Nsddi, and Tramezani, The music 
was procured only for the sake of making a noise ; as it 
is merely an affair of custom with the Princess to have 
musicians, in order that it may be said she has had a 
concert ; cats would do just as well. Lord A[rchibal]d 
H[amilto]n was in a_bad humour with Lady O[xfor]d ; 
consequently, with everybody else. She is only seeking 
an excuse to break with him, in order to pursue a new in- 
trigue with Lord G[owe]r. The latter is much too good for 
her. These wordly intrigues are melancholy proofs of de- 
pravity. Long attachments, even when not sanctioned 
by morahty, excite compassion ; but the ephemeral fires of 
passion, intrigue, interest, and pleasure, are loathsome. 

The Princess dined with her mother, the Duchess 
of Brunswick. The Duchess of R[utlan]d, her two 
daughters % and the Princess Charlotte, formed the prin- 
cipal part of the company. The Duke of Brunswick 
was also present. He is very silent, and appears to be 
somewhat of a misanthrope. 

The Princess went to the play ; a resource she always 
reserves to herself, to escape from a dull dinner. She 
was accompanied by Lord [Henry] Fitz[geral]d, her lady- 

* Lady Marrborongh. 

f The once beautiiul Mrs. Lock [sic really Locke,] " La belle Jennings 
de son temps." [Original note.] She was the daughter of Mr. Jennings- 
Noel and wife of William Locke the younger, a distinguished amateni 

I Probably the two elder daughters of John, jth Duke of Rut- 
land, who afterwards became Lately Elisabeth Dmmmond and Lady 
Emmeline Stuart Wortley Mackeniie. 



in-waiting, and myself. After the play, I was invited 
to sup with her Royal Highness. As usual, she talked 
of her own situation, and her previous life. " Judge," 
said she, " wiiat it was to have a drunken husband on 
one's wedding-day, and one who passed the greatest part 
of his bridal-night under the grate, where he fell, and 
where I left him. If anybody say to me at dis moment 
—will you pass your life over again, or be killed ? I would 
choose death ; for you know, a Httle sooner or later we 
must all die ; but to hve a life of wretchedness twice 
over, — oh I mine God, no ! Well, time went on, and de 
case was, / began to be wid child, and all de wise people 
said so ; but I pitied dem, for I no more beUeved it dan 
any ting for long time. At last, Charlotte was bom. 
Well, after I lay in, — je vous jure 'tis true ; upon my 
honoiu-, upon my soul 'tis true, — I received a message, 
through Lord Cholmondeley, to tell me I never was to 
have de great honour of inhabiting de same room wid 
my husband again. I said very well — but, as my memory 
was short, I begged to have dis polite mess^^e in writing 
from him. 1 had it— and vas free — I left Carlton House, 
and went to Charlton. Oh I how happy I was 1 Every- 
body blamed me, but I never repented me of dis step. 
Oh I mine God, what I have suffered 1 Luckily, I had 
a spirit, or I never should have outhved it." 

She said more, but I can never remember all she sa)rs. 
Poor Princess I she was an ill-treated woman, but a very 
wrong-headed one. Had she remained quietly at Carlton 
House, and conducted herself with silent dignity, how 
difierent might have been her lot 1 It is true, as her 
Privy Purse, Miss H[— — ]n, once told a person of my 
acquaintance, she was so insulted whilst there, that 
every bit of furniture was taken out of the room she dined 
in, except two shabby chairs ; and the pearl bracelets, 
which had been given her by the Prince, were taken from 
her, to decorate the arms of Lady J[erse]y. Still, had 



the Princess had the courage which arises from principle, 
and not that which is merely the offspring of a daring 
spirit, she would have sat out ^e stonn, and weathered it. 

The Princess, in one of her confidential humoois, 
declared she believed that Lady H[ertfor]d * is a woman 
of intact virtue — it is only a liaison of vanity on her part 
with my better half — but it will not last long — she is too 
formal for him." I dined with the Princess and Lady 
Charlotte Lindsay ,t the latter a most amiable and delight- 
ful person ; but she is so witty and so very brilliant, so 
full of repartee, that her society dazzles my duUer senses , 
and, instead of being exhilarated by it, I become lowered. 
I often say to myself in society, ** OH trouverai-je ma 
place ? " — Total retirement, secondary intellect, secondary 
rank, do not suit me ; yet the world, and the first circles, 
and the wittiest and the prettiest, suit me not either. 
This is not affectation, 'tis a melancholy truth. 

In speaking of Mr. Ward one day, the Princess said, 
" I will tell you what Mr. Ward is. He is a man all of 
vanity — ^he would marry for money, or Parliamentary 
interest, or to a very fashionable woman, who wouM 
make a fool of him ; but though t^ joue le sentiment some- 
times," she said, shaking her head, " I do not beUeve he 
has one grain of it in his composition. Did you ever 
observe how he eats ? just like a hog with his snout 
suckii^ in a trough." 

» « « • • 

A long lapse in my journal. My own Hfe during this 
time, has been far more interesting to me than when in 
the busy scenes of court Ufe ; for I have spent the hours 
with . She left town to-day ; so I had nothing to 

* Isabella, daus^ter and co-heir of Charles Ingram, 9th Viscount 
Irvine, d. 1S54, second wife of Francis, sad Marquis of Hertford, who 
died 1823. The " Marchess " of Moore's verses. 

t Lady Charlotte North, daughter of the minister Lord North, the 
sod Earl of Guilford, and sister of Lady Glenbervie, mairied, 1800, 
Lient-Col. the Hon. John Lindsay. She died October 35, 1849. 



do bat to take to my books et je me suis fait raison ; but 
it is hard work, and an ugly manufacture. Lord 
Gpenberjbie paid me a visit, announced Ixird G[uilfor]d's 
marriage with Miss B[oycott] • I don't know why, but I 
felt Sony. What business has that old drunken man to 
marry so late in the day ? 

I received Her Royal Highness*s commands to dine 
with her. She had been very ill with an attaque de bile, 
as she called it, and was lying on her sofa. After some 
attempts at convereation, which I had no spirits to keep 
up, I asked leave to read to Her Ro3fal Highness, and I 
b^an Les Malheurs de rinconstance. At seven, dinner 
was amiounced. The lady-in-waiting and myself were 
the only company ; for every person who had been 
invited sent an excuse, except Mr. W., who neither sent 
nor came. How rude t These indignities were, however, 
in a great measure brought down upon herself by her own 
conduct. How true it is, that vu%ar familiarity breeds 
ccmtempt. The Princess was very ill during diimer- 
time ; nevertheless, she would go to the play, for the sake 
of her httle prot%6 WiUikin, as she called him, whose 
birthday it was. There was nobody at the play in her 
box, but Lord H. F[itzgeral]d. My nobody is, however, 
somebody's everybody. What is it makes me find the 
hours and days so long ? Hours and days are coloured 
by our fancy, not by the sun, or by the hues of nature. 

The next day, I again dined at Kensington. Sir Harry 
Eoglefield, Mr. GeU,t and Lady 0[xfor]d were the only 
guests. I was tired to death — oh, yes, to the death of 
all pleasure. 

One day, the Princess set out to walk, accompanied by 
myself and one of her ladies, round Kensington Gardens. 

• Fnocis, Sth Earl, married, July i6, 1810, Maria, sth dangfater of 
Tbomas Boycott of Wrexham, and died Jannaiy 11, 1817. 
t Sir WiUiam GeU (1777-1S36}. the arctueologist. 



At last, being wearied, her Royal Highness sat down oti 
a bench otxupied by two old persons, and she conversed 
with them, to my infinite amusement, they being per- 
fectly ignorant who she was. She asked them all manner 
of questions about herself, to which they replied favour- 
ably. Her lady, I observed, was considerably alarmed, 
and was obUged to draw her veil over her face, to pre- 
vent betraying herself ; and every moment I was myself 
afraid that something not so favourable might be ex- 
pressed by these good people. Fortunately, this was 
not the case, and her Royal Highness walked away 
undiscovered, having informed them that if they would 
be at such a door, at such an hotu*, at the palace on any 
day, they would meet with the Princess of Wales, to see 
whom they expressed the strongest desire. This Haroun 
Al-raschid expedition passed off happily, but I own I 
dreaded its repetition. It is said that listeners hear no 
good of themselves. 

That evening, as the carriage drove up to the door, to 
take the Princess to the Opera, the box on which the 
coachman sat, broke, fell upon the horses, frightened 
them, and threw ofi the unfortunate man, who in the fall 
broke his 1^. The Princess was shocked, but not suffi- 
ciently to prevent her from going to the Opera. Royal 
nerves are made of tough materials. 

Sunday. — As usual to-day, there was a large dinner 
party. After myself. Lord Rivers was the first arrival ; 
and the Princess, not being yet dressed, we had a tHe-4- 
tite. He is a pleasant and an elegant man— one of the 
last of that race of persons who were the dandies of a 
former century ; and how much preferable were they to 
those of the present day. In the evening, the family of 
the C[annin]gs. I know not why, but there is something 
not altogether pleasant about them, though their talents 
command a sort of admiration ; but too much is done for 



display. Miss C[aimiiig] sings scienti&cally ; still her 
voice is not a voce di petto, not a delicious breathing of 
sentiment, which goes to the soul ; — it is studied — made 
out — acquired — not, in short, the CatUo che nelC anitrm 
si sente. I think the young man is better, though prim 
and pragmatical ; but his verses on the djring gladiator 
are full of spirit, and seem the dictates of a natural gift. 

Mr. Brougham was present on this occasion. I am 
half inclined to like him, yet I feel afraid of him : a mind 
that accustoms itself always to look at every thing in a 
ludicrous point of view — everything especially, that has 
to do with feeling — cannot have one chord in unisoD 
with mine. ] 

Mr. Ward I positively dislike. In the ignoble necessity 
of eating and drinking, as the Princess observed, he 
renders himself an unpleasant companion at table. Then 
his person looks so dirty ; and he has such a sneer in his 
laugh, and is so impious as well as grossly indecent in his 
conversation, that I cannot like this clever man. The 
night dragged on heavily, but, as the Princess was not 
well, she soon dismissed her company. 

Tuesday. — The Princess went to see a ship laimched — 
the Queen Charlotte. We were too late for the actual 
ceremony, but what we did see was one of the finest sights, 
as a moving picture, that I ever beheld. Inniunerable 
vessels gliding about, or rather driving one against 
another, filled with people gaily dressed — all appearing 
pleased with the show. But how false the appearance 
was in many instances, I myself can testify. Neverthe- 
less the pageant had a temporary effect, in drawing off 
attention from individual sorrows. 

The Princess went on board the Commissioner's yacht, 
where luncheon was prepared for her Royal Highness 
and her party, which consisted of Lord Aberdeen, Lord 
H. F[it^eral]d, myself, and her ladies. Lord Aberdeen 



is said to be very wise, but he does not condescend to 
display his stores. 

After spending two or three hours on board the yacht, 
the Princess said she must take us to see Charlton, where 
she had passed the happiest moments of her life ; and 
the tears rolled down her face as she spoke ; — those tears 
were genuine. We walked accordingly to Charlton. It 
is a very fine situation, only looking over the low cotmty 
of Essex, it gives one an idea of marshy land, whidi 
makes one suspect it must be tmhealthy. 

When we returned to dinner at Blackheath, we fotmd 
Lady 0[xfor]d, Mr. Gell, Lord A. H[amilto]n, and Lady 
Jane Harley,* Sir H. Englefield, Miss Berry, Lord Rpvers], 
and Lady G[ ]d. The latter is a most curious-look- 
ing woman, but I think she has sense and originality. I 
like Mr. Gell more and more every time I see him. He 
is so good-humoured, so imobtrusive, so ready to oblige, 
that, with his talents and temper, one overlooks a slight 

degree of vulgarity in his manners. Lord R[ ] is 

less informed, less amiable ; but in him there is a native 
elegance, and his voice in singing is most melodious. 
What a charm there is in perfect high breeding ! 

To-day, Mr. P[ ], an old friend, came to see me, 

and painfully awoke feelings that had long lain dormant. 
How seldom after an absence do we meet with any 
p>erson whose heart makes response to our own 1 Either 
they are colder, or their manners, at least, are different 
from what they were when we parted with them ; which 
makes them appear changed to us, whether they are in 
reality or not. I thought nine years had sadly altered 
him, and obliterated all remembrance of the past. But 
nine years efiace many things : — it is the melancholy 
fate of every one who hves any time in the world, to prove 
this truth. After he was gone, I accompanied her Royal 
Highness, together with Mr. Craven, Mr. Mercer, and 
* * Afterwards Lady Langdale, a daughter of Lady Oxford. 



Mr. Cell, and the Princess's ladies, to the British Museum. 
" Now," said the Princess, as she was getting into her 
carriage, " toss up a guinea, to know which shall be the 
happy two who are to come with me " ; but we had not 
a guinea amongst us, and the honour was assigned to 
Mr. Mercer and Mr. Craven. Mr. Gell, I saw, had rather 
have been one of them, for he blushed. Away we went. 
I was interested in walking through the magnificent 
hbraiy, and in looking at the statues ; yet whenever I 
view these collections my mind is depressed. I devoured 
with greedy eyes the outside of the volumes, and wished 
^K>h ! how vainly — that their contents were stored in 
my brain. A whole life of learned labour would not 
suffice for that ; what chance have I then, in the middle 
of my days, of accomplishing such a wish ? — ^Then those 
beautiful statues, which, even in their mutilated state, 
testify the glorious conceptions of the minds that formed 
them ! Yes, they breathe the spirit of departed genius, 
and will continue to do so, to ages yet unborn ; but I — 
I shall leave nothing to excite one emulative sigh when I 
am gone ! I shall die, and nothing will tell of my existence ! 
But happier far are those who have never indulged a 
wish for fame. If a few who have loved us in life mourn 
us when dead, that is the only tribute to our memories 
which is, in fact, worth seeking for. Down, then, proud 
thought, of living in after ages ! be that which you are 
destined to be — fulfil the course which is pointed out by 
Providence, and be content. I have often wondered 
whether, to a youthful mind, it were an advantage or 
otherwise, to be led to view the highest works of art or 
literature at once, without previous preparation. If 
persons have great sensibihty, I think it might rather be 
a discoiu:agement. As the eye from which a cataract 
has been removed, cannot endure the broad beam of day, 
so a very youi^ and tender mind should be gradually 
led on, as its own powers develope themselves, to the 



contemplation of the most sublime objects ; not as it 
were made blind with light. 

I was informed that two of Lord HEenry] F[itzgeral]d's 
children were dying. The Princess went to see him. 
Poor Lord H[enry] F[itzgerald] was in a state of despair, 
such as the fondest father only can feel. I like him ; he 
is very amiable ; but I regretted that her Royal Highness 
should have exposed herself and him,* by forcing her 
presence upon him at such a time. The world failed not 
to lay hold of the circumstance, and turned it to her 

The next day, the Princess commanded me to accom- 
pany her to Lord AITjerdeen^s, at the Priory. I had not 
been at that place for many years. What a chaise 
those years had wrought in that famUy ! All the yoimger 
branches were grown up ; some of them become mothers ; 
and there was another Lady A[berdee]n ! The present 
one is reckoned agreeable and clever ; but how unlike 
her predecessor in beauty and charm ! Lord A[berdee]n f 
alone appeared unchanged, though all was changed 
around him ; he sang, stalked about the room, and in 
short was toujours lui. He never will allow, I am told, 
any person to mention the children he has had the mis- 
fortune to lose. Alas ! poor man, he does not foresee 
that soon another will drop into the grave. This wilful 
blindness to God's will is very awful. Lady M [Alice ?] 

■ On the Queen's trial. Lady Louisa Stoart wrote of the Princess oE 
Wales's indiscretions : " Commoa sense was not against her as it is 
at present, and the plea of her being deserted, deprivetl of her proper 
state and privileges, &c., so monstrous when urged as an excuse for 
associating with couriers s.nd kitchen-maids, was fair enough to palliata 
more fomiliarity than suited a Princess towards Lord Hoiiry Fitzgerald, 
Sir Sydney Smith, and Captain Manby." 

t George, 4th Earl of AbeniL-en (1784-1860). He married, first, 
Lady Kathenne Hamilton, who died 1K12, and had three daughters, 
who all died in early youth. Lady Alice in April, 1829 ; and, secondly 
181J, Harriet, Viscountess Hamilton, by whom he had issue. His 
mother, Catherine, daughter of Oswald Hanson of Walie&sld, co. York, 
aad widow of tb* jid Earl, died ia 1817. 



aloae, of all the family, seems blooming and healthy. 
I hope she at least will hve. Altogether this visit was 
not very pleasing to me ; I felt too much like St. Leon. 
The trees even had grown out of all proportion to my 
remembrance of them ; but that remembrance was 
perfectly clear, and distinct ; it had been stamped into 
my very being, and only gave a more strange effect to 
my present sensations, contrasted as they were with 
the actual scene. 

July 37. — Slept restlessly and ill. The past and the 
present floated in a turbid stream of thought, and the 
current glided so rapidly along, that I could not distinguish 
the objects it bore upon its surface. My impression 
was that of standing in the midst of a chafing, boiling 
current, against which I was vainly endeavouring to 
stand upright. The effect of this sort of waking dream 
was intensely painful. Tis such nights that unfit us 
for the days wlich are to follow. 

Mr. T[ ] again visited me ; but I sought in vain 

for those traces of feeling, or any reference to the past, 
which I fancied he would evince — I did not meet with 
one. Paid a dull visit — what a pity it is when truth is 
not accompanied by any charms ! Miss Smith, I think 
it is, iivt)Dhas said, that to be dull and disagreeable is 

high treason against virtue. To-day, saw Mrs. L[ ] 

looking like a rose, and her husband, like a sensitive 
plant, sitting near her ; from the Basse Coar to the 
garden was a delicious change. There is something very 

interesting in Mr. L[ ] ; but I believe it is because 

he takes no interest in anything. Not that he is devoid 
of affection for his wife and children ; but the finer 
particles of his nature, those evanescent emanations of 
spirit which are only cognizable to the very few, and 
which thrive not unless imder the influence of congenial 
feelings, are dried up and withered within himself ; and 




I should think can hardly be called to life again by any 
living object. Perhaps the very woman whom he first 
truly loved could no longer exercise that power over him 
which she once possessed, even were there no barriers 
to their re-union. The fair illusion which presented her 
all perfect to his fancy, existed only, it may be, in his 
imagination. When time withdrew that heavenly veil 
in which he bad clothed her, here ended the romance, 
but not the longing after that, which he was destined 
never to find. It is to be lamented that no wholesome 
resolve has sprung up in its place, to recover the waste 
of hfe — the listless hours — the effeminacy — ^which too 
often succeeded to excitement. There are always 
honourable pursuits open to an aspiring mind, and 
there are realities in life which are worthy of the most 
noble and generous natures. 



FEBRUARY loth, 1811.— Of the many times in 
which I have commenced writing a journal, 
some reason or other has prevented its con- 
tinuance, or at least thrown upon it that check, 
which diminishes the pleasure of writing, and renders the 
matter less interesting. If nobody is ever to read what 
one writes, there is no satisfaction in writing ; and, if 
any body does see it, mischief ensues. So I will not write 
a journal, but brief notes of such thii^ as I conceive may 
be amusing, without incurring danger to m5reelf or others. 

I am soriy to observe that the poor Princess is losing 
ground every day, in the opinion of the public. There 
is a strong and a bitter p^y against her ; and she is 
always irritatii^ some one or other of these persons, 
and drawing down upon herself an excuse for their 
malevolence by her imprudence. It is to be lamented 
that she has no intellectual pursuits ; that is the only 
safeguard against a love of intrigue. People must do 
something to amuse themselves ; and when they are not 
employed in any work worthy of the dignity of human 
nature, they will do mischief out of mere idleness. 

The Princess often read aloud. It was di£ficult to 
understand her germanised French, and still more, her 
composite English. She was particularly amused at 
the Margravine de Bareith's Memoirs.* This lady was 
sister of Frederick the Great — Devil. In truth, they 

* HaiTlet Lady Gtanville writes that she read these memoirs in 
i8la. aad says of the Hargravine, " Her descriptions, her abuse and 
bet coBTseDeas, pnt me much in mind al the Princess of Wales, whose 
early life was probably spent in much the same way." 



were ajnusing, as all memoirs are that merely relate 
facts. Her Royal Highness told me that if she were to 
die, her papeis would be all examined ; for which reason 
she had burned a great many, and that the rest — par- 
ticularly the letters she had received from the Prince, 
either from himself, or written by his orders, previously 
to her having left Carlton House, — were in safe custody. 
To-day, I had a letter from the most entertaining of 
all correspondents.* Lord Orford's is a joke to this 
epistolary phenomenon : — 

Christ Chdrch, Oxford, i$th March, 1811. 

Dear [ ], — It vexes me extremely to think that I 

must have appeared so ungrateful to you (provided that 
you did me the honour to remember that there was such a 
person in existence) by not sooner performing my promise 
respecting the drawing which you were so good as to desire, 

and my gleanings which regard the family of [ ] ; but 

the truth is, that what with bad eyes, indifferent health, and 
a perpetual motion from one set of lodgings to another, I have 
scarcely been able to wield a pen, or open a book since I left 
London. Even now, my eyes feel as those of Juno's cow-boy 
must have done, when fixed upon her peacock's tail ; and 
my eyeUds resemble in comfort a couple of hedgehog skins 
inverted. You must have seen a pair of dice in red leather 
dice-boxes ; — my optics exhibit exactly such a spectacle. 
Then my head aches as if I were mtk child of Minerva every 
other day ; though, alas 1 there is but little of the goddess 
in that quarter. When I last arrived in Oxford, I found that 
my rooms had been demolished in my absence, and discovered 
all my articles of furniture and study in the most chaotic 
confusion : so 1 looked out for a new abode, carrying, with 
much pain and labour, my debris about with me. But here, 
the sitting-room was too small — there, too large ; in this place 
the chimney smoked, in that, the housemaid was slovenly, 
and the cat in love. I could settle with comfort nowhere. 
Hy luggage, however, hke £sop's basket, became lighter by 
d^rees, as I left half-a-dozen things behind me at every 

* Charles Kirkpatrick Shaipe (1781 ?-i850, the Scottish archseo- 
legist and antiquarian. 



lodging which I rdioquisbed, and I never could hear tidings 
of them after. In fine, I am at last fixed — ^laid by for awhile, 
lilce a poor slipper that bath been hunted through many 
unseemly places. I now send you the first fruits of my 
repose — a representation of Titania, with that little boy in 
her arms, coDCernii^ whom she hath a feud with her spouse 
in The Midsummer-Night's Dream. It is a wretched per- 
formance, but the best that my slender capacity can furnish ; 
therefore, I beseech you to cast an eye of compassion on its 

* * * • • 

Talking of books, we have lately had a literary Sun shine 
forth upon us here, before whom our former luminaries must 
hide their diminished heads — a Mr. Shelley, of University 
College, who Uves upon arsenic, aqua-fortis, haU-an-hour's 
sleep in the n:^bt, and is desperately in love with the memory 
of Margaret Nicholson. He hath published, what he terms, 
the Posthumous Poems, printed for the benefit of Mr. Peter 
Finnerty ; which, I am grieved to say, though stuffed full 
of treason, are extremely dull ; but the Author is a great 
genius, and, if he be not clapped up in Bedlam or bailed, 
will certainly prove one of the sweetest swans on the tuneful 
margin of the Charwell. 

Our Gillege of Christ Church is so full of noblemen at 
present, that one's eyes require green spectacles to preserve 
them from the glare of the golden tufts among these peers. 
Tbe Pukes of L^oster and Dorset are pre-eminent, and both 
very good men, though the one wiQ never head an Irish 
rebellion, nor the other write a poem quite so pretty as "To 
all you ladies now on land." The Irish Duke is much cried 
op for his beauty ; but he does not strike me as being remark- 
ably handsome, because his nose is fashioned like a monkey's, 
and he bath got what in Ireland is called " clober heels." As 
to Dorset, he is exactly like a sick Canary bird in a hard frost. 
All the iniUiiiers in the place admire Lord Herbert, while the 
wives of the Dean and Canons aSect to admire I-ord Apsley, 
he is so monstrous genteel and sickly. 

Shelley's style is much hke that of Moore burlesqued ; for 
Frank is a very foul-moqthed fellow, and Charlotte, one of 
the most impudent brides that I ever met with in a book. 
Our Apollo next came out with a prose pamphlet in praise 



of atheism, which I have not as yet seen ; and then appeared 
a monstrous romance in one volume, called St. Ircoyne, or 
the Rosicruciao. — Here is another pearl of price ! all the 
heroes are confirmed robbers and causeless murderers ; while 
the heroines glide en chemise through the streets of Geneva, 
tap at the paJazzo doors of their sweethearts, and on being 
denied admittance leave no cards, but run home to their 
warm beds, and kill themselves. If yon would like to see 
this treasure, I will send it. Shelley's last exhibition is a 
Poem on the State of Public Affairs. I fear you will be 
quite disgusted with all this stufi, so I shall discreetly make 
an end, requesting you to believe me your faithful servant, 

C. R. 

i8ii. — The tide of time bears in its flux and reflux 
many things away, and brings in others to supply their 
place. Thus, as we glide down the current, this hfe 
sometimes resembles a bleak and dreary shore ; at others, 
the beautiful margin of some bounded sea, fringed with 
wood, and clothed with luxuriant v^etation : — but still 
'tis but a shore whose varying aspect, as we drift along, 
reminds us that it is no fixed abode. But there is a land 
of promise beyond the horizon of time, where time itself 
will be as though it ne'er had been. As years fly swiftly 
away never to be recalled, it is impossible but that, at 
the return of the epoch which marks their flight, every 
thinking being should pause, and reflect, and standing 
as it were upon the isthmus which separates the past 
from the future, trace out the path he has trod, and with 
inquiring glance look on to that which he is yet to tread. 
Regret, disappointment, misfortune, error, strew the 
track of most earthly pilgrimages ; and happy are they 
whose thorns and briers have not been self-planted, 
and who can, amongst their griefs and sorrows, retain 
in memory's store the faithful lineaments of some pure 
happiness. To dwell long upon the irrevocable past, 
is vain — repentance should be deep and sincere — by its 
fruits the tree is known — so should its truth be proved : — 



but to sink beneath the overwhelming nature of a gloomy 
self-reproach, to heap difficulties in our onwatd road, is 
to mar its best uses. 

I draw the veil of private life upon one year. I have 
little to dwell upon during its progress, that does not 
bring pain aloi^ with it. Since the month of June last, 
my daj^ have past in one uniform tenor ; but not thus 
has my mind rested in abeyance. No ! it has pondered 
deeply, and I find the result of these meditations to be, 
that reUgion and a future life are all that is really worth 
thinking about. The heart which acknowledges within 
it a hopeless vacuum — which has been disappointed in 
all its expectations, has burnt out its affections to the 
very ashes, and from nourishing every feeling to excess 
is forced to subside in the hxed calmness of indifference, 
and be content with common life, — such a heart must 
surely perish from inanition, if it aspire not to the hfe 
to come. " Heureusemertt, quand Us mystires de ce 
monde iinissent, ceux de la mort commencent." I hence- 
forth determine to Uve mentally to myself. My outward 
life win probably be a busy one ; the worldly characters 
and worldly vices, and strange stories that I may 
hear, shall be set down on paper, without many remarks 
of my own, for which I may have neither time nor 
inclination. La vie inUrieure is another thing. 

Saturday, the 4th of[ ], i8n.— Saw Sir Walter 

Farquhar.* He had been dining with the Regent, as 
he bad been obliged to do for a week past. He would not 
say all he could have said ; but, from what I gathered, 
it is evident he thinks as all those must think who have 
access to know the truth ; namely, that a long course 
of indulgence has at last undermined his Royal High- 
ness's constitution, both mentally and physically speaking. 



It is given out that the Regent has got spasms in his anns, 
owing to his having leaned on his elbows at the time he 
sprained his arm, to save himself from pressing on his 
ancle ! What egregious nonsense ! But the same sort 
of stuff has always been said concerning Princes, whenever 
they were to be sick or well, to suit public or private 

» * « * « 

The Ministers now in power are in fact the Regent. 
The Regent dares not say nay, even when he secretly 
disagrees with them, as he knows that if the limitation 
placed by them were taken off, he would be utterly 
overwhelmed by the host of persons to whom he has 
made promises, that he neither can nor will fulfil. For 
this reason, whenever the Regent has been called upon 
to come forward and act, the pubUc papers have always 
made the unfortunate Monarch better, in order that 
there might be a plausible pretext in bringing forward 
filial duty, as virtuous forbearance, and makir^ excuses 
for deferrii^ that which he himself dreads ; — namely, 
the possession of the power to fulfil promises he has no 
longer the inclination to keep. I think the party who 
have looked up so long to him cannot continue to be 
thus gulled without showing their teeth ; — ^in fact, the 
throne totters, and the country which has hitherto 
supported it, is not steady. In the language of Scripture, 
it " reels to and fro, and stagers like a drunken man." 

To-day, I was again one of the guests at Kensington. 
The Princess Charlotte was there. She is grown ex- 
cessively, and has all the fulness of a person of five-and- 
twenty. She is neither graceful nor elegant, yet she has 
a. peculiar air, et tous Us prestiges de la royauU et du fouvoir. 
In spite of the higher powers of reason and of justice, 
these always cast a dazzlii^ lustre, through which it is 
difficult to see the individuals as they reaJly are. The 
Princess Charlotte is above the middle height, extremely 



spread for her age ; her bosom full, but finely shaped ; 
her shoulders large, and her whole person voluptuous; 
but of a nature to become soon spoiled, and without 
much care and exercise she will shortly lose all beauty 
in fat and clumsiness. Her skin is white, but not a 
transparent white ; there is httle or no shade m her 
face ; but her features are very fine. Their expression, 
like that of her general demeanour, is noble. Her feet 
^e rather small, and her hands and arms are finely 
moulded. She has a hesitation in her speech, amounting 
almost to a stammer ; and additional proof, if any were 
wanting, of her being her father's own child ; but in 
every thing, she is his very image. Her voice is flexible, 
and its tones dulcet, except when she laughs ; then it 
becomes too loud, but is never unmusical. She seems 
to wish to be admired more as a lovely woman than as a 
Queen. Yet she has quickness, both of fancy and 
penetration, and would fain reign despotically, or I am 
much mistaken. I fear that she is capricious, seli-willed, 
and obstinate. I think she is kind-hearted, clever and 
enthusiastic. Her faults have evidently never been 
checked, nor her virtues fostered. The "generous 
purpose " may have risen in her breast, but it has never 
been iixed there. How much does every day's experience 
convince me.^that from the crowned head to the labouring 
peasant, no fine quahties are truly valuable, without a 
fixed principle, to bind them together and give them 
stability ! 

The Princess Charlotte was excessively gracious to 
me ; the wind blew my way " wooingly," but that was 
all. Never was a truer word spoken 6y man, than that 
Princes are a race d part. 

1 cannot conceive why tbe Princess of Wales should 
dislike that any friend of hers should become intimate 
with her mother's lady, Madame de Haeckle. I met the 
latter to-day, but fotmd that this short visit was all the 



communication I was ever to have with her, if I desired 
to retain the favour of her Royal Highness. I conclude, 
therefore, she knows more than is wished. 

Lord L[ucan] has been paying her Royal Highness 
great court lately. I fear perhaps that when she broke 
with her former counsellor she made a confidant of this 
man, and so she has fallen into his power, and he is 
making a tool of her. I see by the great fuss she has made, 
and the curiosity she has evincai about the Duke of 
D[evonshire],* that Lord L[ucan] has been schooling 
her Royal Highness respecting his Grace. But what a 
weak man Lord L[ucan] was, to suppose that he will 
ever marry his daughter to the Duke through her means. 
The Princess naturally wishes it : first, for the amusement 
of having something to occupy her ; and, secondly, 
thinking, I suppose, to gain in her turn, through Lord 
L[ucan]'s interest, a powerful friend and supporter in 
the Duke of D[evonshire], should he become the Prince's 
son-in-law. How little do all these people know of the 
matter they are fighting about 1 I Imow not much, but 
I think better of him than to suppose he would be the 
tool of such machinations. The more I see of courts and 
of the world, the more I wish to escape their polluting 
influence. The spirit of intrigue which reigns around, 
the petty passions and debasing contrivances which 
take place in them, are apt to deaden the finer qualities, 
both of heart and head. The danger is, lest they should 
become wholly crushed and withered. 

Her Royal H^hness talked a great deal of the 
D[evonshire]s as a family, knowing nothing at all about 
them. She abused and denigrM the ladies, and repeated 

all that Mr. G[ ] had once told her of their being 

false friends. This gossip she related in her favourite 
way, saying — a person once told her, that another person, 

* William, 6th Duke of DevontUte (1790-1858}. He never m»med. 



a gentleman, a friend of both parties, told him, that one 
of the ladies had spoken very ill of a lady she pretends 
to like. If this is true, it is a pity, and I have other 
reasons for thinking there may be some truth in the 
story ; but who can aver that they have not themselves 
been occasionally guilty of saying unkind or pettish 
things of a friend ? If everything was repeated, what 
would become of society ? Le Palais de la vhiU would be 
a hell upon earth. The Princess further went on to say, 
that she had been credibly informed, " I tell you God's 
truth," (her favourite expression) " when the second 
Duchess of D.* was at C[hiswic]k, she spent about twelve 
hundred pounds in five weeks, and, on the Duke's man 
of business representing that measures should be taken 
to regulate the household, the Duchess took offence, and 
immediately went away. That was the only way of 
settling the business. But what is very odd," continued 
the Princess, " is, that in arranging her future furniture, 
&c., the family diamonds were not appointed to any 
one. Sir S[amuel] R[omelly] gave it as his opinion, 
that they, in consequence, became the Duchess's, being 
considered as part of her paraphernalia ; but the comical 
part of all the story is that she wrote a letter to the 
D[uke], saying, for his sake, his sister's sake, and all 
their sakes, she should take the diamonds, but that if he 
ever married, her Grace would return them to his wife. 
Vat did she mean ? — tell me dat riddle." Every body 
lai^hed at the Princess's amusing way of telling a story. 
Mrs. A[preece] and Mr. Davy dined with her Royal 
Highness. I also was of the party. I had never yet 
become acquainted with this celebrated man, so I took 
his superior abihties upon trust. His superior ugliness 
I know by ocular demonstration. — Mrs. A[preece] seems 
tinctured with something hke love. I wonder if he will 

■ LaAy Eluabeth Foster, nit Hervey, daughter of the Earl of 
Kistol, Bishop of Deny. 



analjfze the sentiment.* In the evening, the Princess 
went to the Duchess of Brunswick's. I am not permitted 
to talk to Madame de Haeckle, or I should be very much 
amused. But no, — that is forbidden ground ; and, 
whenever we attempt conversation, the Royalties inter- 
fere, and there is an end of it. If ever I might converse 
with the old Duchess of Brunswick freely, there is such 
a pleasure in pleasing, and it is so easy to please an old 
person, that from that source also I could derive interest. 
But I must not. There is a hardness of manner in the 
Princess towards her mother, unlike her general demeanour 
to others, which sometimes revolts me. 

Her Roj^ Highness once read through the whole 
of Candide to one of her ladies, who told me her opinion 
of it, which does her honour. She said, — " its character 
as a work of extreme cleverness has been so long established 
that to venture in the least to detract from it, is to en- 
coimter the ridicule of a multitude. I must say, however, 
that the persiflage which reigns throughout, and in which 
its whole essence consists, is not consonant to my taste 
or understanding. Vicious subjects ought not to be 
treated hghtly ; they merit the coarsest clothing, and 
ought to be arrayed in language which would create 
abhorrence and disgust. But the whole works seems 
designed to turn vice into virtue. Either it has no aim 
or end, or it has one which should be loathed. It must 
be confessed, however, that the tripping levity of its 
self-assurance, and the sarcastic drollery of its phrase, 
excite laughter ; but it is a poor prerogative after all, 
to be the mental buffoon of ages." 

Though I, perhaps, have more indulgence for Voltaire, 
in consideration of his vast talents, than my friend, yet 
I admired the woman who thought and spoke thus ; 
and her Royal Highness is fortunate in having such a 
friend. But I fear princes and princesses do not suffer 

* Aiterwards Sir Humphry Davy, and who manied Mrs. A[preece]. 



those who are indined to be their true friends to be so 

To-day, I was admitted to the Duchess of Brunswick, 
to pay my respects in a morning visit, and had a tHe-A- 
tHe interview. I found her sitting, as usual, in the 
middle of her empty dull room. It is wonderful how 
little power locale has over some persons, and how much 
it affects others. She made my heart ache for her, poor 
old soul, when she said, " I have nothing to love ; no 
one loves me ! " — Alas ! — what a picture of human 
wretchedness did that short sentence comprise ! I have 
had too much reason to know since, that she spoke the 
truth. The heart that thus seeks in vain for some re- 
ciprocal affection, must either break or become callous. 
I know not which is the preferable alternative. 

About this time, her Roj^ Highness the Princess of 
Wales was introduced, by a very injudicious friend of 
hers, to a set of low persons, totally unfitting her private 
society : — ^viz., three singers, the father, mother, and 
son ; * and also a number of people belonging to a 
school, whom her Royal Highness allowed and en- 
couraged to treat her very disrespectfully. This at first 
originated in her love of ease and indolence, which is 
indulged by living with persons of inferior rank ; but 
in after-times I much fear there were other reasons for 
submittii^ to such an unworthy set of people. 

The Princess sent for me to execute a commission, of 
selling two enormous unset diamonds. I did not like 
the office, and cannot understand what could induce her 
Royal Highness to part with them, or why she should 
be in difficulty for any sum of money which she can 

* Italian mnsiciaiis named Sapio. The fathei and son are mentioned 
in this Diary as " The Old Ourang-Outang " and " Chanticleer " respec- 
tively. Bfme. de Boigne in her Hemoiis writes of her lessons with 
" Sappio, formerly mnsic-maater to the Queen of France," and describes 
him 05 much being sought after, as was his wife, " a very pleasant little 
person and a good mnsiciaa." 



reasonably want. Is she then drained by the old [ ] 

and will her eyes never be opened to his rapaciousness ? 
or is there a worse reason ? 

I went yesterday to Mrs. N[ ], paid a long visit, 

and asked to see her children, and admired them- by 
words, but cared not two-pence for them — poor httle 
ugly things ! What duphcity does the civihzation of 
mankind naturally impose ! So I sometimes think, 
and turn from myself and others equally disgusted. 
But as there must he de la petite monnaie — base coin 
though it be, — this currency of dross is only received 
as it is given : — and besides, as long as we do not do 
anything base or wicked in order to please, it is amiable 
to please, even at the expense of sincerity. 

I took the diamonds with which I had been entrusted 
to several jewellers ; one man offered only a hundred' 
and fifty pounds for them. I knew this was ridiculous, 
and so I restored them to her Royal Highness : — what 
became of them I know not, but this I do know, that one 
of the jewellers, by referrii^ to his books, declared that 
they were jewels belonging to the Crown, 

Received an invitation from her Royal H^hness to 
go to Brandenburgh House. When I arrived, I found 

her walking in her garden with Lord L[ ]. Shortly 

after, he went away, and her Royal Highness talked 
over the present state of politics and roy^ feuds. She 
was low, but not subdued in spirit ; wounded, but not 
malignant. She related with great spirit and drollery 
the visit of the Queen to the Duchess of Bnmswick, and 
told me that when she, the Princess of Wales, was at 
her mother's the other day, the old lady * said in her 
blunt way, " Madame de Haeckle, you may have a day 

* It is difficult to nndentand how a mother could like to afiront 
her own child ; but such are the onaatural diacrepanciea in the buman 
character, in tliat of princes particularly ; for on the whole the Duchess 
ol Brunswick was a kind-hearted woman. [Original note.} 



to jrouTself on Wednesday next, for the Prince has invited 
me to dine at Carlton House, and be will not suffer any 
lady-attendants to go there ; and, as my son accompanies 
me, I shall not want you." This speech astonished all 
present except her daughter, who had been apprised by 
the Duke of Kent that sudi an invitation would take 
place. It was so unfeeling to announce this with an air 
of trimnph to the Princess of Wales, that but for the 
poor Duchess being very weak, and easily gulled, one 
must have conceived her to be devoid of all heart. This 
speech was followed by a general cessation of all con- 
versation, Madame de Haeckle only looking dismayed. 
The Duchess of Brunswick first broke silence by turning 
suddenly to her daughter and saying, " Do you think I 
should be carried upstairs on my cushion ? " To which 
the Princess rephed with great coolness, "There is no 
upstairs, I beheve ; — the apartments are all on one 
floor." " Oh, charming, that is delightful ! " rejoined the 
Duchess ; and with a few more queries, to which the 
Princess always rephed with the greatest self-possession 
and sang-froid, as though she was not in the least hurt, 
this strange royal farce ended. 

The Duke of Brunswick, however, came to the Princess 
his sister, and said, " This must not be. You must not 

suffer her to think of going." Accordingly, Lady G[ ] 

was despatched the next morning, with a long letter 
written by the Princess to her mother, explaining to her 
that if she went to Carlton House, her presence there 
wonld seem like a tacit acknowledgment that she was 
satisfied with the Prince's conduct to her daughter ; that 
he was in the right ; and that she, the Princess, merited 

the treatment he gave her. Lady G[ ] read the 

letter to the Duchess, then by word of mouth confirmed 
the contents, and further commented thereon ; but the 
Duchess was immoveable in her intention, and persisted 
in going. " No," said she, '* I see the business quite in 



another point of view from what you do ; I love my 
daughter above all thii^gs, and would do any thing in the 
world for her ; but I must go to Carlton House." Lady 

G[ ] continued in earnest converse and entreaty with 

her for two hours, but nothing appeared to move the 
old lady from her determination. When weary and 
worn, the ambassadress was about to depart, the Duchess 
cried out — " No, no ; tell her I love her of all things, biit 
give her no hopes on this subject. The Princess has a 
jewel in you ; you have done your embassy well ; but 
give her no hopes." 

" Eh bien I " said the Princess, continuing her narration 
of this curious scene, and drawing her breath as she 
usually does when she is angry, " I gave the matter up, 
and thought that, like many other things, it could not be 
helped ; when the next day I received a letter from my 
mother sajring, ' Far be it from me to do anything con- 
trary to your interests ; and hearing that there is a doubt 
upon the subject, I shall not go to Carlton House.' This 
resolve astonished me as much as my mother's pre%aous 
detennination, and I immediately wrote to say how 
grateful I was to her ; in proof of which, I begged to dine 
with her the next day, and added that I should take no 
notice of what had passed." " Accordingly," she 
continued, "nothing was said upon the subject, and 
there the business ended ; but was there ever such an 
idea entered a mother's head ! " added the Princess. 
" It was so evidently a trap, that was set to inveigle 
the poor old Duchess into a tacit condemnation of 

The one half of human Ufe is generally passed in giving 

oneself wounds, the other in healing them. Lady M[ ], 

whom I conveyed in my carriage to her lone empty 
house, left a sadness in my mind. She has not perhaps 
one real friend among all the numerous worldly persons 
calling themselves such, for whom she has sacrificed her 
affections and her life. Her tastes are of the most 



extravagant kind, and above her fortune, and ber mind 
has been too long suffered to waste itself in desultory 
pursuits after phantoms, to be able to recover its tone, 
and derive from its own resources that interest which the 
world can neither give nor take away. Yet I think her 

case pecuharly hard. Lady H[ ] ought never to 

have forsaken her. But she is one of the many who 
have loved and lived in vain. 

I was sent for to Kensington : found her Royal Highness 
talking to Dr. Moseley and Lady A[nne] H[amilto]n.* 
I overheard her say to the latter, *' Now, dear Lady 
Anne, take Dr. Moseley and show him the apartments 
above stairs." I undertsood what that meant, and that 
my visit must be tSte-i-lite. I trembled, for I fear it is 
in vain to do her any good. She came to me ; and having 
spoken a few phrases on different subjects, produced all 
the papers she wishes to have published : — her whole 
correspondence with the Prince relative to I-ady J[ersey]'s 
dismissal ; his subsequent neglect of the Princess ; and, 
finally, the acquittal of her supposed guilt, signed by the 
Duke of Portland, &c., at the time of the secret inquiry, 
— when, if proof could have been brought against her, 
it certainly would have been done ; and which acquittal, 
to the disgrace of all parties concerned, as well as to the 
justice of the nation in general, was not made public at 
the time. A common criminal is pubhcly condemned 
or acquitted. Her Royal Highness commanded me to 
have these letters published forthwith, saying, " You 
may sell them for a great sum." At first, (for she had 
spoken to me before, concerning this business,) I thought 

* Lady Anoe Hamilton (1766-1S46). one of the maids of honoar 
to the Ftincess of Wales, eldest daughter of Archibald, 9th Duke of 
Hamlltoti. She was the " Lank I^dy Anne " of Theodore Hook's 
kuitUous songs. To her great diatresa, a book, " Secret History of 
tbe Court of England from the Accession of George IIL to the £>eath 
of George TV.," full of scandalous anecdotes about the Court, was 
published in 183Z under ber name, but it is generally supposed to have 
been inspired by Haiy Anne Clarke, the fonner miatreH oi the Duke 
of York. 



of availing myself of the opportunity ; but, upon second 
thoughts, I turned from this idea with detestation ; for, 
if I do wrong by obeying her wishes and endeavouring 
to serve her, I will do so at least from good and dis- 
interested motives, not from any sordid views. The 
Princess commands me, and I will obey her, whatever 
may be the issue, but not for fare or fee. I own, I 
tremble, but not so much for myself as for the idea that 
she is not taking the best and most dignified way of 
having these papers published. — Why make a secret of 
it at all ? If wrong, it should not be done ; if right, it 
should be done op^y and in the face of her enemies. 
In her Royal Highness's case, as in that of wronged 
princes in general, why do they shrink from straight- 
forward dealings, and rather have recourse to crooked 
policy ? I wish in this particular instance I could make 
her Royal Highness f^ thus ; but she is naturally 
indignant at being falsely accused, and will not condescend 
to an avowed explanation. She wishes her cause to be 
espoused by others. This appears to me a very false 
pride. But were I to propose to her Royal Highness to 
place this affair in other and abler hands than my own, 
she would suppose that I shrink from the task. Now, that 
is not the case ; whatever imprudence there may be, 
there is no dishonour in the service I am about to render 
her ; let me not, therefore, seem to wish to avoid it. 

Shortly after, for some reason or other, which never 
came to my knowledge, I was spared all further anxiety 
upon the subject, as other parties stepped forward, and her 
Royal Highness, knowing that I would not profit by 
the transaction, permitted her papers to be placed in 
their hands. 

Friday, October xist. — Yesterday, the melancholy Lady 
M[ ] came to see me. I was obliged to go to Ken- 
sington by appointment, so I could not take Lady M['— ] 



with tne in the carriage, ahd she iralked awajr on foot- 
I was quite grieved at heart for her. She wa^ there 
depressed in sphdt than ever. When I arrived at the 
palace, her Royd H^hness was standing at the window, 
evidently awaiting my arrival impatiently. She ^nished 
reading to me the rest of the papers and cbrrespondehce, 
which occupy at present so much of her thoughts. — I 
have never toiown a more extraordinary person than the 
Princess. She writes occasionally with much spirit, and 
many of the copies of her letters to the Prince are both 
clever and touching. Sometimes, there is a series of 
exalted sentiment ih what sh^ sayd dnd does, that cjuite 
astonishes me, and makts me rub my eyes and open my 
ears, to know if it is the same person who cdndescenck 
to t(tlk low nonsense, and sofaietimes even gross ribaldry. 
One day, I think her all perfection — another, I know hot 
what to think. The tissue of her character is certainly 
more uneven thdh that of any other person I Was ever 
acquainted with. One day, there is tinsel and tawdry — 
another, worsted — another, silk and satin — another, 
gold and jewels — another de la hone, de la crasse, — pte 
dirai-je ? et peut-Hre fai trap dit. 

I have so often determined to write a consecutive 
journal, and have so often failed, not from idleness, 
which is not my besetting sitl, but from the danger of 
telling all I think — all I know — ^that I have shrunk back 
into silence, and thought it better, wiser perhaps, to 
forget entirely the passing eVents of the day, than to 
record them. 

After the examination of the papers, I was desired to 
retnain dijring luncheon. Lady A[nne] H[amilto]n was 
the lady-in-waiting, and she was sent for to attend. I 
beheve the Princess has told the whole story to her, and 
as she is very fond of secrets, I make no doubt she haS 
beard them all in their details. Then there are other 
ladles who, I shrewdly suspect, have also been aduitt^d 



to this confidence. Host women, indeed, think a secret 
not worth knowing, if one may not tell it to a dozen or 
two intimate friends. To own the truth, I am a very 
bad hand at keeping secrets myself, and my best chance 
of doing so is the great facility with which I forget them. 
Nothing that does not interest my heart, or my passions, 
has any great hold on my imagination or thoughts. I 
am <mly vulnerable through my affections. My weal and 
woe lie all in that quarter ; what then can it have in 
common with a court ? 

Saturday, the 28/A October, 1811.— Yesterday, Sir 
Walter F[arquhar] came and told me a curious con- 
versation which he had held the night before with the 
Prince Regent. " Well, F[arquha]r, so you were paj^ng 
your court to the Princess of Wales at Tonbrldge, I 
hear ? " (alluding to the day he went there last May, 
when she spoke to Sir Walter.) The Baronet : — " Yes, 
Sir, her Royal Highness was very gracious to me, and I 
thought it my duty to shew the Princess of Wales every 
respect ; but I did not stay to supper, though she was 
graciously pleased to invite me ; because I thought, if 
your Royal Highness heard of it, you might not have 
been pleased." Regent — " What did she say to you ? " 
*' She asked me. Sir, why I had not advised the Princess 
Charlotte to go to the sea side for change of air,— sashing 
* it would do her Royal Highness a great deal of good,* 
and insisted upon it that I ought to do so." " And what 
did you reply ? " eagerly questioned the Prince. " I replied, 
Sir, that when I had last the honour of seeing her Rojral 
Highness the Princess Charlotte, she was in such perfect 
health that she appeared not to require any medical 
advice ; consequently, it would be highly improper that I 
should interfere. ' Oh, Sir Walter F[arquhar],' rejoined the 
Princess of Wales, ' you are a courtier ' ; and we both 
laughed." R^ent— " Was that all ? "— " Yes, Sir, that 





was all — stay, another word I recollect ; when the 
Princess first did me the honour to speak to me, she said 
* I know you dare not, you must not speak to me ' ; to 
which I answered, * Pardon me. Madam, I never had any 
orders from the Prince not to speak to the Princess at 

At this. Sir Walter said, the Prince seemed pleased. 
Persons, however lost to rectitude, are not lost to the 
sense of it ; and he felt that the meaning of these words 
was, what he ought to feel, and what his friend ought to 
have answered. The Prince then observed, "I hear 
Lady Charlotte Campbell is very tired of her situation " ; 
to which Sir Wfilter replied, '* That he had never known 
Lady Charlotte to have expressed such a sentiment." 
Here the conversation ended. 

Sir Walter told me that by what he could gather from 
all the Carlton House cotirtiers, he thought it most likely, 
if any qnestioo came on in Parliament, respecting an 
additional allowance for the Princess, it would be favour- 
ably received. This looks, I think, as if they were afraid 
her wrongs might, if not redressed, in pecuniary matters, 
at least, raise a strong party in her favour, and what is 
worse for the ministers and placemen, against the Prince. 
Unfortunately, (I say unfortunately, because the dis- 
sensions of all families, and more especially of royal 
families, frwjuently lead to incalculable evils, and often 
overturn kingdoms, and principalities, and powers,)— 
unfortunately, the Princess of Wales catmot become 
popular without the Prince of Wales becoming the 
reverse ; for the odium which is taken from her, must 
of necessity fall upon him ; and this, in these changeable 
times, when the dregs of the nation are all shaken into 
coounotion, is an3rthing but desirable. Who can say 
where discontent may end, if it once lift up its hydra 
head ; or whether redress of public grievances, even ii 
they be really such, and not innovations, may not lead 


52 tMe diary of a lady-in-waiting 

to the tihimate subveiiioil and overthrow of tlJe cbn- 
stitution ? Tet, oh the other hahd, a blind and bigoted 
adherence to the past, and a venal Parliahient, who are 
slflves to the tnonareh and his minions, atfe not less 
dangerous. — No, the longs of Englishmen will not breathe 
freely under a corrupt government ; and, though evil 
spirits ever have arisen, and ever will arise, when the 
tempest breaks forth, yet, to submit to present evil for 
fear of greater danger, is not the characteristic of the 
nation ; though it has long sheWn patience with its rulers 
eveil under discontent at their supineness. This century 
will not pciss without many awful changes. We are 
come to a crisis. Nothing stands still in this world — 
our prosperity has reached its highest point — aJl things 
now tend to change. What leads me more particularly to 
think so is, the blindness of those in power. *' Whom the 
gods mean to destroy, they blind " ; and in all events 
of magnitude, whether in social life or in that of nations, 
the truth of this observation is exemplified. The security, 
the self-sufficiency of princes and their creatures, and 
above all, the blindne^ of princes themselves, ofier a 
forcible comment upon ttiis remark. 

I grieve to think that the Princess of Wales is ob- 
stinately bent upon bringing forward her wrongs and her 
complaints at this moment. She will only, now, be 
made the tool of party. Had she waited till her daughter 
was of age, to have backed her cause, and supported it 
with filial love, as well as by the influence which a young 
heir-apparent Queen would necessarily exercise over the 
minds of her future subjects, then she might have suc- 
ceeded. But as it is — alas ! alas ! all public, like private 
greatness, rests its security on moral rectitude ; and 
where that is deficient, the edifice is built on sand. No 
marvel, that those who are denominated the vulgar should 
be so taken by the bait of tank and greatness. Rank 
and greatness ate in themselves truly admirable ; real 



greatness, in its origiiial and Iugh^st 3ensQ, is an a{:^bute 
at the Divinity, ant) earthly grandeur is the visible sign 
by which ;t is {uresented to our senses. The misforti^e 
is, that there is hardly such an image of the Divi^ity 
existing as true greatness. 

Vy pen has never before busied itself with such a 
subject, b^t my situation naturally makes me sometimes 
reflect upon things, from which I turn away with pleasure 
to the illusory world that I have created for myself — that 
vie intSrieure which is worth all the rest, — and to those 
simple realities which nature and natural pleasures afiord- 

I vent this evening to a friend of mine. Miss B[ ] : 

this person, whom I have knowQ so long and esteem so 
highly, has not always a winiiing manner, and certainly 
eveiy now and then talks to her friends in a way that 
is not pleasant. The love that is much stronger on the 
one side than on the other, is always painiul to witness. 
As to myself, the natural suavity of my manner and temper 
(no praise, since it is constitutional) — a simvity that I 
sometimes blame myself for, when it induces me to gloss 
over sentiments to which a more bold frame of mind would 
express its dislike or abhorrence, — imparts somewhat 
of its own nature to those with whom I associate ; and, 
with those of my friends in whose tempers and manners 
the angular and sharp predominate, I $m less apt to 
heurter m3rself against them, than th^. are against each 
other. This I felt yesterday evening. But if my friend, 

Kiss B[ ] sacrifices somewhat to the world, it must 

be said to her honour, that that sacrifice is never kindness 
of heart or integrity of character. It is not always in 
our power to be generous, or to render great services ; 
but it is always in our power to soothe a mind and ex- 
hilarate spirits le$s fortunately constituted than our 
own ; ^d I do not feel it to be lost time when I have 
dedicated some hours to such a purpose, or at least to 
the attempt. 



Went again to Miss B[ ]. Sir Humphry and Lady 

Davy were there. Sir Hiimphry, accustonied to adula- 
tion, seems to fall into surliness or dulness where he 
meets it not ; — his allowed pre-eminence in the science of 
chemistry places him in that respect above every one ; 
but I never could find that there was great superiority 
in other respects. No person moving in the same sphere 
as myself, is less liable to be led away to like, or dislike, 
persons who are a little {more or less) vulgar in point of 
manner ; but there is a peculiar degree of under breeding 
in Sir Humphry, which is indicative of inferiority of 
intellect. I believe this proceeds from his always trying 
to be what he is not, a joH cceur. If every body would 
only be natural / but it is natural to some people to be 
affected. Lady Davy makes what I call a douce sodiU. 
I never in my Ufe heard her speak ill of any person ; she 
is frank and kind>hearted, and has much acquirement, 
with a wish and thirst for more, which it is pleasing to 
see. Anjrthing, even a perpetual bustle after knowledge, 
is preferable to the careless and dreaming way in which 
some persons pass their insignificant lives ; pampering 
every appetite, and never cultivating the only spark of 
being they ought to be proud of, the intellectual one, 
without which the animals are our superiors. Yet how 
many of those who form what is called good society are 
sunk in this sensual sloth I 

Wednesday, 2Sth of October.— Dined at Fish Craw- 
furd's,* an old epicure and bon vivant, but one who has 
seen much of the world. He has lived with all the cele- 
brated people of his time, Madame Du DefEand, Voltaire, 
Hume, &c., &c., and he seems to remember with pleasure 
that he has done so, though gout and the consequences 
of indulgence render him crabbed and complaining. 



His table, his house, are most luxurious, but his own 
dissatisfied mind, bis emaciated body, and bloated face, 
give the lie to happiness. I have ever felt that old age, 
even in its least respectaUe form, is still to be respected, 
and I have a peculiar pleasure in pleasing old people. 
I reckon, that yesterday's dinner was a lesson ; there 
was el^ance, luxury, all that can flatter the fancy with 
well chosen and appropriate objects, as well as the palate, 
— ^but pleasure — happiness — ^where was it? Does it sit 
at the board of the epicurean ? — is it enthroned in purple 
and fine linen 7 — No. A very modified quantum of 
these, with vigour of mind and body, a fair and honour- 
able pursuit, a goal in view, and contentment at one's 
right hand, be it gained or not ; — these are, I beUeve, the 
best ingredients to form the mixed good which men have 
agreed to call happiness. It was melancholy to observe 
this old man, in the possession of all which can gratify 
htunan desires, and yet repining, and in fact, wretched 
— a Tantalus, with the cup of enjoyment at his lip. But 
there are many such, — ^how many I There ever have 
been, there ever will be such, so long as people live to 
themselves alone. 

The Princess said, that the complaints made in Par- 
liament, of the government's not having sent over supplies 
to Lord Wellington in the number, and with the celerity 
he demanded them, looked like an avant-propos for more 
complaints, and would end by Lord Welle^ey's becoming 
prime minister ; " then," said she, " blood and treasure 
would not be spared, and the constitution and country 
will be lost." 

I see many other reasons for the ruin of the country, 
but those who might do good are blind. Lord Moira is 
sent off to India ; — I call it being sent c&, for it is evident 
the Regent cannot bear to have him near his person. 
How few people, in any rank of life, have suBQcient 
nobility of soul to love those to whom they stand indebted I 



W011I4 yo» lose a friend, oblige hiip — ^not in the miifor 
circumstances of life ; but let the obligation be v^st, 
and it crushes friendship to dfath. Lord Moira has 
accepted this honourable banishment, because he cannot 
help himself, and is ruined. But who ruined him i 
He lent uncounted sums of money in fonner ye^ra, 
of which no note whatever was ta^en, and of which 
he never will see one farthing in return. Yet no 
one pities or feels for this man. Why ? — because he is 
of nobler stufi than the common herd. Vanity and 
ambition were his only flaws, if flaws they be ; but his 
attachment, or rather devotion, to the Regent was 
sincere, chivalric, and of a romantic kind, such as the 
world neither believes in nor understands ; it was a kind 
of affection which Eunounted even to a passion of the mind, 
and, like all passions, led him into one or two acts beneath 
the " chevalier suns peur et s(ms reproche." But never- 
theless, he is a noble creature upcoi the whole ; and what 
can poor human nature ever be more ? Formpd to live 
in another day than the present, some men seem bom 
too late, and some men too soon ; but perhaps the only 
wise men are those who fulfil their course at the time, 
and in the manner, which providence has pointed out 
for them ; suiting their conduct and their actions to 
the present, rather than indulging in speculative theories 
for the future, or vain regrets for the past, — ^neither of 
which can they judge with truth — for former times are 
seen through the medimu of other men's minds, and 
the future belongs to the All-seeing eye alone. If the 
present moment be ever well employed, the by-gone, 
and the to come, will take care of themselves. 

Veiy frequently, the dinners at Kensington were 
exceedingly agreeable, the company well chosen, and 
su^ient liberty was given to admit of their conversing 
with imrestrained freedom. This expression does not 
in^y a licentious mode of conversation ; although 



s<Hnetimes, in iavmir of wit, discretion and modesty 
were trenched upon. Still that was by no means the 
general turn of the discourse. Mr. Gell and Mr. Craven, 
in particular, though often very droll, were never in- 
decorous. I think I never knew a man of a more kind 
and gentle turn of mind, nor one so humanized by lite- 
rature and the particular pursuits to which he devoted 
himself, as Mr. Gell. He was affectionate in the highest 
d^ee, and willing to impart all he knew, (no common 
stock of information,) in the least pedantic and most 
agreeable manner ; and if ever he indulged in a joke 
that was questionable, it was in a manner so devoid of 
real vice, that the most punctilious or dehcate female 
could scarce take offence at it. Mr. Craven likewise, 
his intimate friend, without possessing the strength of 
mind and the classical knowledge of Mr. Gell, wds full 
of talent, and all those Ughter acquirements which adorn, 
if they do not instruct society. 

To-day, I received another letter from my amusing 
friend, C. K. S.» 

Christ Chorcb, Oxford, October, iSii. 

Dear [ ], — What can I say to the generous return 

for my abominable scribbles, which you have made me by 
your delightful letter ? I catmot for my Ufe think of another 
case than the bounty of the outlandish queen, who gave a 
I basin ; — which was a sin 
athmore married Bowes,f 
]rB[urrel]l. Oh! heavens, 
-]. I wish that I had as 
a spider, which I am told 
[ougla}^, who is the very 

* Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe. 

t Uary Eleanor Bowea, CouDtess Dowager of Stntthmore, manied 
teoffodly, Andrew Robinson Stoney, of Coldpig Hall, co. Dnrhain. 
who took her name. Clementina Dmmmond, daughter and heiress 
of James, Lord Perth, married, in 1S07, Petei Burrell, znd Baron 
Gwydir. He snoceeded. however, on his mother's death as 3ist Baron 
WiUoaghby de Eresby. 



reverse of a spider in every thing but her industry, hath but 
one ! — Oh I that I possessed as many hands as Biiareus, or 
some of the Hindoo gods, that I might produce a weekly 
drawing, provided my humble eftorts were crowned with such 
a rich reward about once a quarter, as your epistles are cal- 
culated to bestow ! But lack-a-day ! my eyes, which scarcely 
can be called a pair, demand a string like a doll's, in the 
simple operation of turning, and my fingers are about as 
unwieldy as an Irishman's legs in the gout. Nevertheless, 
I am residved, in spite of Nature and my stars, to write, 
that is, to wield a goose-quill in your service, as long as I 
possess a Uttle more vision than the mole, and energies that 
may in any measure rival those of the unfortunate sloth. In 
truth, the honour of any command or employment from you 
is sufficient to transform a sloth into a squirrel ; for I must 
tell you, my dear fellow, that you are one of the most extra- 
ordinary personages of the present time. Perhaps you did 
not know it before, — but only consider a Uttle. In the first 
place, nothing can be more honourable and illustrious than 
your family, and your rank is suitable to it. You do not 
resemble some very fine and lofty persons of my acquaintance, 
who, however high their place may now be, had merchants 
and mechanics for their Others ; and middens, I guess, for 
their grandsires. Then Nature seems to have run hiddy- 
giddy in your formation ; for she made you nolde, too, in 
mind, and, moreover, gave you a voice of imexampled power 
aiwJ sweetness, — ^which, in my bumble opinion, is one of her 
greatest beStowments. And here allow me just to hint at 
your scientific pursuits, and, in short, whatever is praise- 
worthy, and fitting the true dignity of human nature ; all 
of whidi is wonderful in any body, but in one so spoiled, so 
favoured, I should say perfectly prodigious ! As to your 
more exalted merits, I shall not particularize them, my rude 
pen being altogether unworthy ; only this I may say, that 
if, according to the chances of thi^ world, you have not 
always so many superfluities as King Montezuma, vrbo 
reclined upon a bed of roses, — yet your pions fortitude and 
resignation have given a «4iolesome lesson to your inferiors, 
and added graces to yourself. 

Frian all that I have ever heard or seen, I am convinced 
that you vteie intended to make as conspicuous a figure in 



the next world as in this, and that a sentence in the funa^ 
sermon of Hary, Duchess of Queensbeny, who was a very 
exalted character, might with great justice be applied to you. 
Hie preacher says, " But diy up your tears, my brethren, and 
weep no more for this most illustrious Princess, who, though 
she was a great and good Duchess on earth, is now a great 
and good Duchess in Heaven." This is not very neat, but 
it is all very true ; so that I may say with the down, in 
Measure for Measure, " here be truths." 

Alas t — your account of London, I shall not for a great 
while experience the truth of, as when I leave this place I 
most repair to Scotland, where I am to remain for ages : — 

To me the gods, severely kind, ordain 
A cool suspense from pleasure and finxn pain. 
However, as the dntness you mentioned must exist in the 
mass of people, (for it cannot possibly be in you,) I must try 
to extract a sour-grape comfort from the consideration, that 
London is not what it was. — Meanwhile, be it known unto 
you that the ingenious Mr. Shelley hath been expelled from 
the University, on account of his atheistical pamphlet. Was 
ever such bad taste and barbarity known ? He behaved like 
a hero, " he showed to Fortune's frowns a brow serene," and 
declared his intention of emigrating to America. I send his 
romance, which would have reached you sooner had not an 
impudent person cribbed it from my rooms. I also transmit 
Octavian, and a volume of poems written by a friend of mine. 
He is, poor fellow ! in the last stage of a consumption ; so 
the critics should be merciful, for he will never write better, 
nor worse, (which is of more consequence to brother authors,) 
and a deith-bed repentance of such literary crimes is as 
latter as it is useless. 

Doubtless, after this cargo of Oxford goods, you will ex- 
claim, "Enough, enough, no more of it, de grac*/" I am 
not wise in sending you such a dose at once ; for I fear that 
our poetical fervours will prove little better than camtnnile, 
cmly not so wholesome, and that you will never more endure 
the sight of such another bouquet. I transmit my treasures 
erf Parnassus by the coach, but this shall move per post, as I 
am ever dutnous concerning the delivery of small parcels in 
London ; and, though my books and my letters be of Uttle 



pansequence, yet I would fain not appear wanting in respect 
where so very much is due. 

I have finished your portrait ; and it is not like, so I have 
i».et the fate of all my painting predecessors. Yet, to catch 
your likeness would not be quite impossible, if ttds system 
of galvanism could be improved, and four painters of ancient 
times rendered as Uvely by it as a pig's tail is at present. — 
I would rouse from h^ dull repose, Titian, to paint your 
head ; Sir Peter Lely, your neck ; Vandyke, your hands ; aqd 
Rubens lot the draperies and background of the picture. — 
Then, perchance, one might have something worth looking 
at. As matters stand, I confess I am in utter despair. 

WiU you deign to read of some Oxford gaiety ? — 1 was at 
a Font at the Deanery last night. The Deaneress, Mrs. Hall, 

ci-devant Miss Byng, and sister to the P[ ]e, a fine lady, in 

white satin, telling us the price of every }iing in her drawing- 
room, from the mantelpiece to her own cUckey. We bad' 
tea and cards, and — what a Miss, whose name never reached 
me, called music. After a loi^ silence, " But where are the 
sweet children ? " cried a parson present ; on which, after 
two tugs of the bell, the door flew open, and voila, totfie fa 
singaie/ — a thousand little things, with monstrous mouths, 
hopped in, like the Egyptian plague of frogs, and surrounded 
the poor dean, (who resembled St. Anthony in on« of his 
Dutdi temptations,) squalling aloud for cake and tea, and I 
know not what. I was glad to escape, leaving the eldest boy 
amusing himself with tickling the noses of all the company 
in turns, with a handful of dirty hog-bristles, — to the great 
delight of his mother, who esteems him a decided wit. Apropos 

of wits, Lady [ ^J hath been at Lord Abingdon's, near this 

town, astonishing the weak minds of sundry poor youths 

with her vivacities. She talked to a friend of mine of I ]'s 

account of the plague at Athens, which scared him sadly. 

He told me (hat he swore it was d d fine, though he bad 

never rea4 a word of it. And she played oi^ 4 Spanish guitar, 
sitting on a custiion in the lobby by the light of the lamps, 
to the admiration of sundry bores, >vho read Sir Qiarles 
Grandiaon, and think a mad countess a fine thing. For my 
part, I have been told that she is really npt clever ; and J 
pever could admire her looks ;— she hath such a huge no^e 
that she resembles a hussar's sabre with the pouch and straps ; 



— flhft's prilicipaDi' nose, and ill the rest of het seems id belong 
to h. Bilt it is time for me to have done, there bein^ scarcely 
aay ^Ktce oh the paper left for the natrie of 

Your faithful servant. 

FimH H.R.H. The Princess of Wales. 

I should not 50 soon have encroached on your time, my 

deat [ ], but that there has happened a few coincidences 

which to relate to you would perhaps afford you amusement. 
Lord Deerhurst is quite a joke to the secret marriage of the 
d-devant Mrs. Panton with a Mr. Geldi, an acquaintance of 
Battys, and why it Is kejjt a secret, and why it is made 
public, nobody can guess, as she was her own mistress, — 
or that ghe thought that she was pubUc property, and that 
it would be essemial to have an Act of FarUament to make 
an enclosure to beconle private property at a moment's 

Town grows every day thinner and thinner ; though I had 
last Monday a large party at dinner ; and, in the evening, 
A little hop for the young ladies, yet I felt how useful you 
would have been to make the party go off more lively and 
merrily. Clan Rowland [Clanranald], very unusually, danced 
with great glee the whole evening with Lady C[aroline] 
E{dgcumbe] ; * he supped at my table with her, and I have 
not the smallest doubt that Hymen will soon crown that work. 
Lord M[ount] £[dgcumb]e looked pleased with him, and 

pnlisM him to me to the skies. Poor Miss R[ ] is 

quite forsaken by him, and I trust she will be wise enough 
to console herself, as Ariadne did — and not choose a, Bacchus, 
bot something more eligible to her taste. 

Though Lady Harriet is very cunning and sly, still 1 have 
discovered that she is the match-making lady to her brother. 
She brought Lady E[lizabeth] to dinner, and did nothing 
bot prose in praise of her. Lady G[eorgina] M[orpeth] takes 

her to [ 3, and Lord H[artingtOn] is ^o of the party, 

and the hnal proposal will be made there under the 
shady trees, <x by the placid hght of the moon. The great 
ball at D[evonshire] House, I heard was magnificent ; Lord 

• Youngest daughter of Richard, 2nd Earl of Mount Edgcumbe, 
married, in i8t2, Reginald George MacDonald of Cla nra nald, and died 
April lo, 1814, 



H[aTtiiigton] began the dance with Lady E[lizabeth], and she 
was infaraduced to the old Duke,* who, I hear, was very 
much charmed with her beauty, and I dare say this marriage 
will be settled before we meet again. 

The H[ ], Lady P[ ], and the daughters came also 

to my party ; the old lady looked like the head of a ship. 

Lady P[ ] very embarrassed, the two young ladies, as 

usual, frightfoUy dressed — like naughty girls, with grey 
stnfE gowns, to make them learn their le^on better the next 

day. The eldest danced with B[ ] N[ ], and the two 

younger ones danced together. They did not stay supper, 
but went away very early. I heard the next day that Lady 

C[ ]b had sprained her ancle, which prevented her 

from going to dance cotillons next day at Lord D[ ^]'s. 

She seat, instead, early in the morning, for a surgeon, to 
Mr. Des Hayes, the dancer, and he came and said, " My Lady, 
je sais bien arranger les jambes qui se portent bieu, mais 
pas celles qui sont malades " ; and so he left the room, and 
she was obliged to keep company with the sofa. 

Monday next my humble habitation will be graced with 
the presence of Louis XVIII. , Madame D'AngoulSme.'f and 
all the French princes, and above thirty French people, at a 
breakfast. My mother, and the Princess Sophia, and some 
old fograms, male and female, will be there to enliven the 
party. This is all the merriment of my budget which I can 
offer you to-day. 

Mr. Arbuthnot looks shy and dismal. I think be must feel 
ashamed of his cowardice, never to have asked me to one of 
the many suppers which he has given lately. There have 
been, I bear, very charming masquerades ; but I speak from 
report merely. " Mes beaux joors sont passfe." But, be 
that as it may, I always remain. 

Your affectionate friend, 
C P. 

Wednesday, the igth. — I dined at Kensington. All 
the pleasure of the party was marred by distant looks. 

* This letter must have been inserted in the wrong place, as the 
jtb Dnke of Devonshire died July 29, 1811. 

t D&Dghtei of Louis XVI. and Maiie Antoinette, wife of her consin, 
tbe elder mhi of the Comte d'Artoia. afterwards Chariei X. 



and silence, that boded coming storms. There was 

Miss B[ ], Mr. Ward, Mr. Knight,* and Sir James 

Mackintosh, — the latter, a very charming man ; but as 
mach leaven was thrown into this society as the Princess 
of Wales could put into it, to make it diKigreeable. 

Thursday. — I went to Lady D[ ]y's, where, amongst 

much rubbish, there were some persons worth conversing 

with. I met there, my old friend, Lord D[ Jey. 

There are some persons whom one feels to be sure friends. 
It is impossible for a being gifted with quick sensations 
to be deceived in this respect. I know not if it can be 
accounted for philosophically, but I always return to my 
own sj^tem of fascination and attraction, sans rhyme 
Ht raison. 

Lady Mt ] came to see me. — I never saw so 

melancholy a proof of the extent of punishment that 
conscience can inflict on those who have not fulfilled 
the severer duties of life. The leaven of disappointment 
has soured all the genuine virtues of her disposition, 
while the ficuteness of her intellect, and her quick and 
wann affecticms, have been fatally conducive to misery 
instead of happiness. Yet, like a wayward child that 
has been long indulged, I would not thwart her, or use 
violence to instil other thoughts to counteract the poison ; 
I would, on the contrary, soothe and lull her wounds 
with the sedative of afiection before I attempted to give 
stronger medicines to turn her mind and views into another 
channel. Alas ! riches and power afford the means to 
do many kind things ; but who can say that when the 
means are ours, the inclination will remain ? The 
amusements of London, unless accompanied by all which 
can pamper and satisfy ambition, cease to be pleasures. 
I learnt to-day that an old servant of my family was- 
* Ur. Knight, the author of a work on Taate. [Part of original 



at the point of dedth. The idea that this was the case, 
and that he had not perhaps sufficient means to render 
his transit to another world as httle painfol as possible, 
afiected me. The great are not sufficiently attentive 
to the wants of their dependents — ^petsons who, alter 
passing a lifetime in their service, often die in poverty. 
This sometimes happens from procrastination ; not 
from a determined neglect ot a hardened indifference, 
bot from the vagne sensation that we will do to-morrow 
what we are not inclined to do to-day. The longer I 
live the more I am convinced, that to put off a good 
intention is generally to render it abortive 

Note pom H.R.H. The Princess op Wai£S. 

All the news I can ofier you, my dear [ ], is a most 

dreadftd blunder which that wdnderful woman, Madame 
De Stael, has ctHnmitted. She was in some party several 
evenings ago,, and mistook old Mrs. B[ ] for tlie Mar- 
chioness of Hertford. She began by assuring her " que la 
renonunte avait vant£ sa beaatS et sou esprit par tout le 
continent — que ses portraits ^taient grav&, et faisaient les 
charmes et I'omement de tous les palais."— Of course, yon 
may imagine that this event has been the laughing-stoclt 
of these last eight-and-forty hours. I had the unexpected 
happiness of seeing my brother return ; he gives no sanguine 
hopes at all of the restoration of Germany, and he has a very 
sad opinion of Bemadotte. To conclude my latter, I must 
only give you another piece of information, that Madame 
De Stael has discovered, not La Pierre Ptdlosophale, but 
" that Lord Castlereagh's speech about the treaty with Sweden 
was the most eloquent, most rhetorical and persuasive speech 
that ever was made in Parliament" : these are Madame 
De Stael's own words. I fear this is not the way of pleasing 
in this country, at least not the generality of the English 
.people. She also had a great dispute with Lord Lansdowne 
about the Catholic Question, which has, of course, given 
great offence to all the opposition. At least, he might have 
supposed that Madame De Stael must be tolerant ; but 


Frtm Iht Calltlliana/ sir. John . 




writing and speaking seem to be two difierent things with 
her. I will not longer dwell upon her, and only anticipate 
the pleasure of having an agreeable Ute-a-tiU with you on 
Sunday morning.^ Yoois sincerely, 

(Signed) C P. 

[Charles Kirkpatrick Sharfe.] 

London, Wednesday. 

Dear [ ], — ^Lady M. inftnrms me that you desire I 

should write ; so I hasten to obey your commands, though 
the weather and my [n«sent mode of life aie very far from 
propitious to epistolary exertion. Nothing but smothering 
heat, and parties that melt one to inanity. To go into the 
streets is to endure the fiery ordeal ; (which none of us here 
at present can well abide ;) and to venture into an evening 
assembly is to tumble into a kettle of boiling sprats. For 
my part, I have endured every culinary effect of fire men- 
tioned by Hannah Glasse, and all the newer processes of 
steam Ixodes. I am in the condition of that poor Princess 
in the Arabian Nights, who fought so fataUy with the 
genius, about the transformation of a monkey — (my concerns 
are fidl as afHsh,) and I might most justly exclaim with 

I bum — I more than bum ; I'm all a fire ; 
See how my mouth and nostrils flames expire ! 

Thank heaven, however, I am not in love t That alone 

saves me from utter conflagration; for indeed, dear[ ], 

I cannot " join the multitude to do evil," in findin g Lady 
Elizabeth 6[ingha]m, and Miss Rumbold, and twenty more, 
so very, very charming. Perhaps my taste is bad, and these 
belles are fairer than the houiis ; but they do not strike me ; 
— a circumstance which can give ihem no concern, and is, on 
the whole, very lucky for the second son of a poor gentle- 
man. And now, I wonder if you wxU care to hear about 
routs and such things. I shall talk a Uttle on that subject 
at a venture ; for you can bum this as soon as you please, 
or give it to your hound to mumble, if there happeneth to be 
no fire (as is most likely) in your chamber. But I am firmly 
resolved not to say one word about the disasters at Carlton 



House ; tlioiigb I &&w one misraable person toonght oat 
uptm a board, and many gentlewomen worse attiied than 
Eve in ber primitive simplicity. Yon must have beard all 
these horrois long ago ; so I shall begin, with Lady Mary L. 
Crawford's ball, most mE^animously given in the Argyll 
Street rooms, to all her friends, or rather her enemies — as, 
even by her own account of the matter, she is at deadly feud 
with the whole world. I could admire nothing at the enter- 
tainment — not even herself. Fancy her • attired in draperies 
of muslin, covered with gold spots the size of a sixpence 1 
When she reclined under that frippery canvass bower at the 
end of the ball-room, she looked exactly like an ill-favoured 
picture of Danae in the shower of gold. To crown the whole, 
S[keB6ngton],f with rouge on his cheeks and ultramarine on 
his nose, handed her to supper ! " Sure such a pair I " 

I was one of the happy few at H[ ]'s ball given in 

B[ ^fa House— 4 house I had been long anidous to see, 

as it is rendered classical by the pen of Pope and the pencil 
of Hogarth. It is in a woeful condition, and, as I heai, to be 
pulled down. The company was very genteel (I can't get » 
less vulgar word to express the sort of thii^) aJid very dull ; 
but all the ladies were vastly refreshed with an inscription 
chalked upon the floor, which each applied to herself. Within 
a wreath of laurel, hke burdock, fastened with fifty crooked 
true-love knots, were the mysterious words " Pour elle." 
And what a sensation did these two simple words |HVduce 1 
First, there was such a flocking to the centre of the room — 
such a whispering — such a " Dear, I should like to see it ! " — 
'.' Pray, Lady Louisa, let me see it " — " Goodness ! ^/bsaa 
can it mean ? " — and then a triumphant retreat ; smiles 
upon every lip, exultation in every eye. It was quite amusing 
afterwards to ask any lady who the "elle" could be — the 
downcast-look of affected humility — then the little sigh of 
half-surfeited vanity — and then the stare of confident triumph, 
crowned with " How should I know ? " were deUghtful. 
After all, the true eUe is said to be Lady £. B[ingham], for 

* Lady Mary Lindsay Crawford, died in iSjj. 

t Sir Lnmley St. George Skefiington, and Bart., bom 1768, a cde- 
brated Dandy. The original note says that he was " the very wreck 
of a beau ; he is to be seen sometinies creeping about like a half dead 
fly which bos outlived the summei." 



whom a frieod of miite is at [»«seDt very sick, and earring 
her name upon every tree he finds in the couotry. But I 

am not quite sure that she will be Lady H[ ], as I do not 

think that the swain looks much in love.* We had much 
waltzing and quadiilling, the last of which is certainly very 
abominable. I am not sensitive enough to be ofiended with 
waltzing, in which I can see no other harm than that it dis- 
orders the stomach, and sometimes makes people look very 
ridiculous ; but after all, moralists, with the Duchess of 

[ ] at their head, who never had a moral in their Uves, 

exclaun dreadfully against it. Nay, I am told that these 
magical wheelings have already roused poor Lord Dartmouth 
frcMU his grave to suppress them. Alas ! after all, people set 
about it as gravely as a company of dervises, and seem to 
be paying adoration to Plato rather than to Cupid. But 
the quadrilles I can by no means endure ; for, till ladies and 
gentlemen have joints at their ancles, which is impossible, 
it is worse than impudent to make such exhibitic»is, more 
particularly in a place where there are public ballets every 
Tuesday and Saturday. When people dance to be looked at, 
they surely should dance to p^ection. Even the Duchess 
of Bedford, who is the Angiolini of the group, would make 
an indifferent figurante at the Opera ; end the principal male 
dancer, Hr. North, reminds one of a gibbeted malefactor, 
moved to and fro by the winds, but from no personal exertion. 

Knee I had the honour of seeing you last, I have been in- 
troduced to the Princess of Wales, and have dined several 
times at Kensington. Her royal highness has been very 
good to me, which I in a great measure attribute to the 
^vonrable manner in which you mentitxted me to her. One 
night we went through all ihe upper rooms in the palace, 
to examine the factures, and many seemed excellent in their 
way ; but one can see little by candlelight ; and there was 
a sad want of names, — which takes away all the pleasure of 
portraits. The Scotch picture, as an altar piece, is very 
curions ; though, from the style of painting, I guess that it 

ust have been done a long while after the death of the 
»ns represented. 

* The original edition has this cryptic note : " Perhaps that ball at 
^ y House was given for ooe who was not pemutted to attend 





Since I have been in Londaa I have read nothing except 
Hiss Seward's letters, and Miss Owenson's Missionary. Of 
Miss Seward I am bound to speak well, as she doth so of 
me ; and her monodies are beautiful ; but the letters are 
naught ; they abound in false sentiment, and a great many 
other false things. As to the Missionary, Ambrosio is his 
father, and Matilde his mother ; but, wanting the indelicacy 
of papa, and the delicacy of mamma, he's a doll fellow. I 
could think of nothing else but poor Margaret Stewart of 
Blantyre,* and her presbyterian minister, while I read this 
book. Miss Laxina brought her hogs to a bad market, for 
Hilarion was little better than a beast. Walter Scott's last 
poem I have also seen, but so hastily that I can be no com- 
petent judge of its merits. Talkit^ of words, allow me to 
recommend to you Ford's Plays, lately re-published. Some 
of them are excellent ; the first in the series (which hath an 
awkward name, I must confess) and the Broken Heart, are 
particularly admirable. I am sure that you will be struck 
with them ; for Ford is almost as moving as Otway or Lee, — 
who is the mad poet I adore, yet I can persuade nobody to 
read him. The History of the Somerville Family, which I 
have seen in MS., is soon to be printed, and that of Sutherland 
is to be out shortly. So much for books — saving that Sir 
John Murray hath found the whole correspondence of the 
Earl of Chesterfield, who flourished in King Charles the 
Second's time, in Bath House, containing most curious letters 
of the Duchess of Cleveland, Lady Southesk, and many other 
personages, whom Count Hamilton has rendered so interesting. 
I will try to get Sir John to publish them, for such things 
should not run the risk of fire, not to mention rats and mice. 
There is a sort of memoir of .Lord Chesterfield at the beginning 
of the volume, in which he says his second wife died of the 
spotted fever or plague ; but, in fact, he is said to have 
poisoned her in the wine of the sacrament, to be revenged 
for her gallantries, which were notorious : that old villain. 
Sir John Denham, having shown him the way, by getting 
rid of his wife after a fashion nearly similar. 

I have written so much that I can find no room for Mrs. 
Dawson's masquerade, where it was said that the only good 

39, the Rev. 



mask was Mr. Fitzbarding in the character of Lord Berkeley ; 
nor Deerhuist's marriage, nor Lady 0[xford]'s adventure 
with that rogue her brother ; but, if you will signify to me 
that a second gazette extraordinary will be acceptable, I 

shall be greatly flattered. Meanwhile I remain, dear [ ], 

Your faithful servant. 

Another Letter from the same, 

London, Sunday, [ ], iSii. 

Dear [ ], — Yon flatter me greatly by desirit^ a second 

number of the gazette extraordinary, which I hasten to 
transmit, albeit the adventures of Lady O[xford] and her 
brother are now what is termed in Scotland, Piper's news. 
But, before I touch seriously upon that legend, you must 
permit me to disclaim all title to the knowledge of a certain 
art, the first nidiments of which may be gathered from the 
" Academy of Compliments " and " Walton's Complete 

Angler." Indeed, my dear [ ], I never was accused of such 

a thing before ; nay, I have been told by many persons that 
I am too innocent of the sin, and that my fortunes in life 
are impeded thereby ; and I verily do believe it. In your 
especial case, however, it is scarcely possible to commit this 
crime, except one were to give you wings at once, and — but 
I shall say no more on that subject, for fear of fresh accusa- 
tions ; and return discreetly to my news, ancient and modem, 
according to the tenor of the permission through which I 
have the honour of corresponding with you. 

Lady 0[xford], poor Lady 0[xford] I knows the rules of 
prudence, I fear me, as imperfectly as she doth those of the 
Greek and Latin grammars ; or she hath let her brother, who 
is a sad swine, become master of her secrets, and then con- 
trived to quarrel with him. You would see the outline of 
the mflange in the newspapers, but not the report that 
Mr. S[cott] is about to publish a pamphlet, as an addition to 
the Harelian Tracts, setting forth the amatory adventures 
of his sister. We shall break our necks in haste to buy it, 
of course crying " shameful " all the while ; and it is said 
that Lady 0[xfonl] is to be cut, which I cannot entirely 
believe. Let her tell two or three old women about town that 
they are young and handsome, and give some well-timed 



parties, and she may still keep the society which she hath 
been used to. The times are not so hard as they once were, 
when a woman could not construe Magna Charta with any- 
thing like impunity. People were full as gallant many years 
ago ; but the days are gone by wherein my Lord Protectoi 
of the Commonwealth of England was wont to go a love^ 
maldng to Mrs. Fleetwood, with the bible under his arm. 

And so Miss Jacky Gordon * is really clothed with a bus 
band at last, and Miss Laura Manners left without a mate 
She and Lord Stair should marry and have children, in mere 
revenge. As to Miss Gordon, she's a Venus well suited to 
such a Vulcan, — whom nothing but money and a title could 
have rendered tolerable, even to a kitchen wench. It is said 
that the matrimonial correspondence between this couple 
is to be published — full of sad scandalous relations, of which 
you may be sure scarcely a word is true. In former times 
the Duchess of St. A[lban]s f made use of these elegant epistles 
in order to intimidate Lady Johnstone ; J but that nise 
would not avail, so, in spite, they are to be printed. What 
a cargo of amiable creatines ! — Yet will some people scarcely 
believe in the existence of Pandemonium ! 

Tuesday momif^. — You are perfectly right respecting the 
hot rooms here, which we all cry out against, and all find 
very comfortable — much more so than the cold sands and 
bleak neighbourhood of the sea — which looks vastly well 
in one of Vander Velde's pictures hung upon crimson damask, 

but hideous and shocking in reality. H[ ] and his " Elle " 

(talking of parties) were last night at Qiohnondeley House, 
but seem not to ripen in their love. He is certainly good- 
humoured, and, I believe, good-hearted, so deserves a good 
wife ; but his cara seems a genuine London miss, made up of 

* Johanna, daughter of Charles Gordon of Cluny, married, in 1B04, 
according ta Scottisb custom, the 7th Eaxl of Stair. He. disregarding 
this contract, maiiied secondly, in 1808, Miss Laura Manners, daughter 
of the Countess of Dyaart, a marriage which vas set aside. The 
Eari's first maniage was dissolved in June, iSao. Miss Hanoers was 
afterwards known as Lady Laura Tollemacb, and died in 1S34, having 
never married a second time. 

f Louisa Grace Manners, another daughter of Lady Dyiart, wife 
of the 6th Duke of St Albans. 

1 Charlotte Gordon of Cluny, sister of Johanna, Countess of Stair, 
w& of Sir John Lowther JotanstoiMi of WeBterhall, 6th Bart 



muiy affectations. Will she form a onnfortable helpmate ? 
For me, I like not her origin, and deem many strange thJi^ 
to nm in blood, besides madness and the Hanoverian evil. 

Thitrsday. — I verily do believe that I never shall get to 
the end of this small sheet of paper, so many tmh^rd of 
intoTuptions have I had ; and now I have been to Vaoxball 
and caught the tooth>ache. I was of Lady E. B[ingha]m 

and H[ ys party— very dull — the lady giving as all a 

sapper after our promenade — 

Hach ado was there, God wot, 
She would love, but he would not. 

He ate a great deal of ice, although he did not seem to require 
it ; and she " faisoit les yeox doux," enough not only to have 
melted all the ioe which he swallowed, but his own hard heart 
into the bargain. The thing will not do. In the meantime. 
Hiss Long hath become quite cruel to Wellesley Pole, and 
divides her favour equally between Lords Killeen and Kil- 
wmth, two as simple Irishmen as ever gave birth to a bull. 
I wish to Hymen that she were fairly married, for all this 
pother gives one a disgusting picture of himian nature. 
Avarice in children is shocking — yet the united schools of 
Eton and Westminster are gaping after this girl, as if she 
were fairer than a myriad of Venuses. Apropos, I have 
discovered a Venus — a Mrs. Owen ; she is beautiful, but 
she looks vulgar, and is horribly afEected. I think that the 
Adonis of this year is Grammont. He is handsomer than any 
body, and I know three fat ladies who are expiring through 
the love they bear him. Lady Barbara Ashley is to marry 

him, it is said.* And now admire, my dear [ ], the strange 

chaise of opinion which takes place in families 1 Here is a 
person descended from a precise Puritan, and the trumper-up 
of the pofHSh plot, herself a Papist, and about to marry one I 
The Count descends prodigiously, to wed such an ill-bom 
moshroom ; but she has money and he hath not. Here is 
another change ; but he has much more excuse for what 
he does than Miss Long's pack of trufSe-hunters. When 
Bliss Porter's Don Sebastian came out, I expected to find the 
Margravine, Keppd Craven, (with whom the fair authoress 

* She mairied, bowever, August 8, 1814, Hoa. William Frederick 
Spencer Ponsonbr, created, in 1S3S, Lord de Haolejr, 



was in love,) and many of my other friends there ; in place 
of which I found nothing but such heroes and heroines as 
might have been fashionable and common formerly, bat 
iriio are wonderfully out of date and rare now; so that 
circumstances gave me a disgust to the book. As to my own 
romance, which you have done me the honour of accepting, 
I feel such prodigious qualms about its publication, that I 
scarcely think it will ever see the light. When it is quite 
finished, you shall have it in your power, as to a perusal. 
The subject is certainly good, though my hero was a sad fool, 
and my heroine (Lady H. W[entworth]) little better than a 
ba^age ; but I have not done it justice, and people persuade 
me that these melanges of truth and fiction are pemicious, 
or at least worthless. On the score of impropriety, you will 
find nothing offensive ; and the moral of the Duke of M[od- 
mouthj's life is excellent, for his eixors, poor soul, were vernal, 
and his punishment most exempla^. Lady H[arriot] never 
held up her head after the intdUgence of his death readied 
her ; and his Duchess, (who was a very unfeeling woman, 
that breakfasted on cold haggiss,) married Lord C[omwaliis], 
and concluded her career very comfortably. And here it is 
time that I should conclude mine for the present, as ^ as 
writing goes ; — so, with ten thousand thanks for your letter, 
(which I dare not call amusing, lest you should say I flatter,) 
and living in hopes of being honoured with hearing from you 

again, I am. Dear [ ], 

Your faithful savant. 

From H.R.H. The Pkincess of Wales. 

Wednesday, [ ]. 1811. 

The accounts from Windsor certainly have been very 
terrifyir^ for a few days, which has prevented my going since 
a week to the opera ; but the accounts are now very much 
the same as they were a month ago, and I feel no appr^ension 
that it will be worse, nor, I fear, better. Hy mother has 
been very ill indeed : her dinners have been postponed since 
a fortnight. I have been much at home, and not at all the 
worse for having seen a few people irtiom I liked the best. 
Hr. Sharpe * would do very wdl, it he was not a great gossip ; 
• Probably Charles Kirkpatrick Shupe. 



and there are days and times that it would be very incon- 
venient to have him in society. The two marriages in ques- 
tion are stjll a profound secret, and the formal proposals are 
not yet made, of which I am certain. All parties are on the 
point of going into the country, and before next year I believe 
nothing will be settled. Mr. Macdonald is at Mr. E[dgcumbe]'s 
and I suppose that it will be arranged soon. Your letter is 

safely burnt, and a feu de joie made of it, my dear [ ], 

When the Royal visitors left me, Louis the XVlIIth could 
only offer me the gout in one knee and in one toe, and Madame 
D'AngoulSme a swelled face * ; so that I have not been blessed 
with a sight of these charming creatures. Still I was reduced 
to the satisfaction of having forty, including my own family, 
to this great feast. The sight was not enchanting, as it 
was loaded with old fc^ams. My usual resource on this 
occasion is to show the great apartments and the rarities 
they contain.'f At last, (every thing, alas ! ends,) we were 
obliged to take to another resource, which was walking in 
the great avenue ; and there we walked with all the plebeians, 
and with all the mobs. As our conviviahty was exhausted 
as well as our wit, the military band suppUed the sound of 
our voices. We lounged there till happily the clock struck 
ei^t, and then the party was swept away like magic. 

Lord Hartington gives a great ball at Burlington House, 
which is his new residence, and I suspect that this ball, which 
was given quite suddenly, was for some matrimonial reasons. 

Another from H.R.H. to (he same. 

Deab [ ], — I have lived in such a confusion since you 

left me, that I don't know whether I am the besi^ed or 

■ All these ulings probably befell the royal fomily ol France at the 
command of the Prince R^eot of En^an^ [Ori^nal note.] 

I This was a circumstance which nei Koyal Highness's enemies 
laid hold of to turn to her disadvantage ; and the newspapers of the 
day found great fault with the Princess for taking her guests into 
those apartments, and insinuated that they were the scenes of Improper 
conduct, being but paitially lighted ; whereas her Royal Highness 
only took her company there when she had no other means of enter- 
taining them. Thus was she often falsely accused ; and, unfortunately 
icK her own weUare, (though I think, in many instances, it speaks well 
for bet character,) Uie Princess of Wales did not heed what interpreta- 
tioa her enemies put on her actions. [Original note.] 



the besi^ier. Lady Anne and I began by receiving an am- 
bassador, the second day after she had been installed into 
all the secrecy of our nuimery. He was sent by our gracious 
Majesty ; in short, it was the Vice-Chamberlain, Colonel 
Desbrowe ; his object being to stop my going to Windsor, 
and convey a refusal to my request of having my daughter 
to come to see me last Saturday. I was just sitting In Lady 
Anne's room, opposite to the sofa on which she was placed, 
when he was announced ; she had never heard of his name, 
and supposed that he was a young and fashionable beau. 
She behaved like Joan of Arc in the whole of this business ; 
was immoveable ; not a muscle of her face altered at the 
eloquent speech of this kni^t errant. I desired him to 
wiite it down on paper, to refresh my memory now and then 
with it ; but he refused. Lady Anne then took her pen, and, 
in the presence of this ambassador, she conveyed his message 
to paper, which he read himself hetore he left the room and 
took his departure. I think this scene will make a pretty 
figure in the Morning Chronicle or in the Examiner ; but I 
leave that to a much abler pen than mine. 

One day I went with Lady Anne to see the English " St. 
Cyr," * at Lee, where I met Lady Perceval. I think you 
would have been amused for a moment, with hearing the 
seomd Hiss Grimani sing ; she is one of the governesses. 
Sapio and his wife also sang duets and trios with her, 
and I was much gratified by the exquisite taste and great 
flexibility of voice of this yoang person. 

Poor Lady K[ ] is, 1 fear, at this moment in great 

anxiety and tribulation, as she has been absolutely refused, 
under any condition, to have the house at Kensington. She 
had offered to take upon herself all the repairs and finishing, 
that it might iM:ove no incumbrance to the Board of Works ; 
in short. He is a brute, and unqualified to be called a gentle- 
man through his behaviour, this Lord Chamberlain. And 
now I must tell you something else — I am so accust(nned, 

my dear { ], to disappointments since my childhood, that 

one more or less makes not much effect upon my temper. 
I am only astonished how very little chivalresque feeling is 
remaining in i\i }^ country ; and Mr Dnmunond certainly 



shall not be the Banker to George IVth's Queen ; * for any 
historian, who would write the biography of the ex-Priucess 
of Wales, would not a little astonish the worid, in relating 
that she could not procure the sum of ;^oo, at the rate of 
paying £500 a year per annum for it 1 ! 

Letter from H. G. Lewis, Esq. 

Trb Albany, Nouember loOt. 

My dear [ ], — ^Lord Aberdeen is a candidate for the 

Presidentship of the Antiquarian Society ; and I need not 
tell you, that I am extremely anxious to promote his success, 
and intreat you to use all your influence in obtaining votes 
for his support. 

I hear that Lady [Hester Stanhope] is Uving at Constan- 
tinople with young B[nice], avowedly as his chire amie ; 
and that she says nobody was ever so handsome, nor so 
clever, and that he is in short, and is to be, one of the 
first characters in these kingdoms. I wish hiin joy of his 
conquest, and had rather he than /.f 

I send you some verses which I read in the Examiner; 
I think them very witty, although very abominable. 
Believe me, 

Most truly yours, 

M. G. Lewis. 

The Triumph of the Whale. 

lo ! Paean 1 lo ! sing, 
To the finny people's king ! 
Not a mightier whale than this. 
In the vast Atlantic is ; 
Not a fatter fish than he. 
Flounders round the Polar sea : 

* The bankiiig house of Bilr. Dmmnioiid refDsed to advance the 
snm of jjoo for her Royal Highness. The reason aaaigiied was. its 
bong inconsistent with the rule of their hoDse to obey her commands ; 
bnt one might have supposed that an exception conld be made in 
bvODT of the Princess of Wales, especially considering the small amount 
of the sum. [Original note.] 

f Mil-haul Brace ; ste Miss Knights' Antobiography, ii. p. 79. Me 
later, with Sir Robert Wilson and Captain Hely Hutchinson, assisted 
Lavaiette to escape from prison in Pans. The original note says that, 



See his blubber at his gills, — 
What a world of drink he swills ! 
From his trunk, as from a spout, 
Which next moment he pours out. 
Such his pCTSon — next declaie, 
Muse 1 who his companions are : 
Every fish of generous kind. 
Stands aside, or slinks behind ; 
But about his presence keep, 
All the monsters of the deep : 
Uermaids with their tails and singing. 
His delighted fancy stinging. 
Crooked dolphins, they surround him, 
Dc^-like seaJs, they fawn around him ; 
Following hard, the progress mark. 
Of one intolerant salt sea shark ; 
For his solace and rehef , 
Flat fish are his courtiers chief : 
Last and lowest in his train. 
Tub fish, libellers of the main, 
Their black Uquor shed in spite : 
Such on earth the things that write. 
In his stomach some do say, 
No good thing can ever stay : 
Had it been tiie fortime of it. 
To have swallowed the old prophet, 
Three days there he'd not ^ve dwell'd, 
But in one have been expell'd. 
Hapless mariners are they. 
Who beguiled, as seamen say, 
Deeming him some rock or island. 
Footing sure, safe spot, or dry land. 
Anchor in his scaly rind ; 
Soon the difEerence they find : 
Sudden, plump, he sinks beneath them, 
Does to ruthless waves bequeath them. 
Name oi title, what has he ? 
Is he Regent of the sea ? 

" Having reached London, with all his honours fresh upon him, he 
turned the heads of several elderly ladies, and ended his public career 
by marrying a widow lady with several children." 



From that difficulty free as, 
' BuffoD, Banks, or sage Linnaeus : 

, ' With Ids wondrous attributes. 

Say what appellation suits ; 
" By his bulk and by his size. 

By bis oily qualities, 

This (or else my eyesight fails). 

This ^ould be the Prince of Whales. 

Who is there that may not be caricatured, when the 
most avowedly graceful man of his time, or perhaps of 
any time, can thus be personally ridiculed ? 

To-day I went to see Mrs. Nugent. She is more like 
a corpse than anything can be that is not one. I have 
paid her several visits. Her conversation is sensible and 
composed. Whatever scandal may have formerly said 
against her, must, I conclude, now be silenced ; though 
I believe, like the Gowls in tiie Arabian Nights, it ever 
feeds upon decayed carcasses. 

I see strange reports in the papers about the poor 
Princess. Turning her out of Kensington Palace, (for 
that is the true meaning of procuring her another domi- 
cile), appears to me to be the forerunner of new troubles. 
It is said she is to be sent abroad. How caa that be, 
without bringing her to public di^race ? It is further 
reported, that no ministers will be accepted by the Prince, 
except such as will further his plans respecting the 
Princess. Now is the time when her Royal Highness 
should seek for the protection of the greatest in the land. 
Talent alone is not sofBcient to stem the tide which has 
set in against her. When people forsake their own 
position — their own station in life — to cast themselves 
upon the aid of those beneath them, it is an invariable 
rale that they fall into a pit from which none can extricate 
them. The latter are generally incompetent to judge of 
the conduct of those who are in a totally different position 
from themselves. There is nothing perhaps so difficult 



as to take upon oneseli another's identity, in any circum- 
stance or station of existence ; and those who attempt 
this in regard to princes, must be very hononrable persons 
indeed, not to be swayed in their judgment by party, 
by prejudice, or by self-interest. No royal person 
ever experienced this truth more fatally than the un- 
fortunate Princess of Wales. She was alternately under 
the influence of all these contending powers ; and even 
the best of her Royal Highness's advisers, those who 
were honest and honourable in their intentions towards 
her, were not free from party spirit ; whilst others again 
used her merely as a ladder on which to climb to power. 
Bat then, it must be said in justice to those who tried to 
serve her and failed, that she frequently marred their 
endeavours by underhand confidences to persons of 
opposite principles, when she did not like a measure, 
and yet did not dare openly to run counter to it. This 
was vexatious to those who really were desirous to be of 
use to her, and failed of making her any stable friends 
with any set of political men. 

The tissue of all human character is more or less 
uneven ; but I never knew greater inequaUty than in 
that of this very extraordinary woman. Posterity will 
never do justice to her memory ; for, as in most cases, 
the bad and inferior parts of her character were tangible 
and prominent to the observation, while those alone who 
lived in her intimate society, knew of the many good 
and great ingredients which formed a part of the hetero- 
geneous mixture. A friend of the Prince, one who leant 
with steady affection to his Royal Highness's interests, 
said to me the other day, " The Princess has behaved 
towards me with a candour and good nature that do her 
honour " ; (alluding to that person's never having waited 
upon her, for fear of offending the Prince ;) " few royal 
persons are sufficiently liberal to set down a seeming 
omission of duty, even of the most trifling nature, to 



its true cause, when no disrespect is intended." It 
ought to be recorded to the honour of the Princess, that 
nntil she was goaded to madness, she never felt any 
hatred against the Prince's friends, as such ; — only 
against persons who had been her adherents, and turned 
from her to bow the knee to Baal, did she shew any 

Returned to town — ^was invited to sup at Kensmgton 
— a very agreeable party, but, unfortunately, the Princess 
prolonged her pleasures till they became pains. No 
appetite for converse, no strength of nerves, no love for 
any individual who might be present, could possibly 
enable any person, who was not royal, (they certainly are 
gifted wiUi supernatural strength,) to sit for five or six 
hours at table, and keep vigil till morning tight. Some 
one, I remember, present that night, ventured to hint 
that morning was at hand. " Ah 1 " said the Princess, 
" God, He knows when we may all meet again — to tell 
you God's truth, when I am happy and comfortable, I 
coxdd sit aa for ever." 

There was heaviness in her mirth, and everybody 
seemed to feel it ; so they sat on. At last, we rose 
from table ; many of the guests went away ; some few 
lingered in the drawing room, amongst whom I was one. 
I was left the last of all. Scarcely had Sir H. Englefield, 
Sir William Gell, and Mr. Craven reached the ante-rocmi, 
when a long and protracted roll of thunder ecohed all 
aroimd, and shook the palace to its very foimdations ; 
a bright light shone into the room — ^brighter than the 
beams of the sun ; a violent hissing noise followed, and 
some ball of electric fluid, very like that which is represented 
on the stage, seemed to fall close to the window where 
we were standing. Scarcely had we recovered the shock, 
when all the gentlemen who had gone out, returned, 
and Sir H. Englefield informed us, that the sentinel at 
the doOT was knocked down, a great portion of the gravel 



walk torn up, and every servant and soldier were terrified. 
" Ah ! " said the Princess, undismayed, but solemnly — 
" this forebodes ray downfall " ; and she shook her head ; 
then rallying, she desired Sir H. Englefield to take 
especial notice of this meteoric phenomenon, and give 
an account of it in the Philosophical Transactions ; — 
which he did. "- p' 

t.- I learnt the next day that three new doctors had been 
called in to the poor King : Monro, Sjnnons, and J. Willis. 
Herberden was dismissed, and is to see him no more. 
It is settled, that a new plan is to be adopted : — as all 
the physicians now allow that the King's mind is quite 
gone, he is to be left to himself, except at moments of 
violence, — no longer to be tormented with medicine or 
questions, &c., &c., and only attended by the doctors 
who profess to treat insane persons, and by one regular 
physician. By all this it appears certain, that at the 
expiration of the year at latest, that is to say, in the 
course of next February, all restrictions will be taken off 
the Prince Regent, and he will act as King. What is to 
follow, time only can shew. 

Heard to-day of the marriage of Mrs. Bouverie,* which 
event has given rise to a great deal of wit. They say that in 
her youth she wore a cloak, and in her old age a Spencer. 

Tlie Princess communicated to me a letter from Mr. 
Brougham. It is very like a conjuror's hocus pocus ; 
for I defy any one, and certainly her Royal Highness, 
to understand distinctly what it means. It is a very 
ingenious mystification, however : — 

Copy of Mr. Broughah's Note. 
I have seen Lord Grey, and Lord Lansdowne, and others. 
The Prince did not propose to Lord Wellesley anything about 
seeing or speaking to the opposition ; but Lord Wellesley 



proposed it, and the Prince did not object. Lord W[el]esley] 
saw Lord G[rey] yesterday, and to-day he saw Lord Y[ai- 
moutb] and Lord Grenville — and then he saw Lord Moira, 
and others. He has proposed several principles, in which he 
thinks they may all agree : — the Catholic question, and the 
war in Spain. Nothing has been proposed in the order in 
conndl ; which is the diief difficulty in the opinion of many. 
As yet, nothing is fixed, nor has any mention been made, as 
to arrangements of the offices ; they are only negotiating to 
try to come to an understanding upon principles. If they 
succeed in that, the rest will be quite easy, as far as relates 
to them ; and I fancy Lord Grey will be minister ; and the 
Prince reserves to himself to agree to or refuse the project 
they may finally submit to him. The thing is still going 
on, and they seem to think Lord Wellesley has completely 
quarrelled with the old cabinet — with some (Lords Bathurst 
and Harrowby) irreconcileably. I never believe in such ir- 
reconcileable quarrels. The opposition (with a few excep- 
tions) are all against their coming into office, and I am sure 
Whitbread, Coke, &c., will be decidedly so. 

About this time, there was a talk of publishing some 
statements of facts, in favour of the Princess, which was 
got up by some of the opposition party, but which they 
chose to envelope in a sort of mjretery ; — whether or not 
to deceive the Princess, or whether to serve her or them- 
selves and their party, I never could understand. Her 
Royal Highness shewed me the following sentence in a 
note of one of the most celebrated men of this day 
concerning them : — 

"The papers have been sent to me by a 

mysterious personage, with the view. to pubhcation. I 
have fully considered the subject, and have written a 
cautious answer, which has not been called for, though I 
have twice advertised in the newspaper, as directed by 
the stranger. I had intended to send a copy of my 
answer, but it is scarcely worth while ; the substance 
is strongly to advise publication, but accompanied with 
a proper narrative, which I have engaged a most 



unexceptionable) person to write as soon as required, 
namely, Mr. Hunt." 

While Mr, [ ], was busily engaged thus, as it 

appeared, in procuring or bU3nng up papers, supposed to 
be in favour of her Royal Highness, she herself was 
equally busy on her part in a similar scheme ; but by all 
I ever could make out, it was kept a profound secret 
from Mr. [ ]. 

From Mr. M. G. Lewis. 

The Albaky, Noo. aott. 

My dear [ ], — In the first place yon most understand, 

that I have been all my life the most careful person in the 
world respecting letters, and that the late instances of the 
Duke of York and Lord Folkestone have by no means operated 
to produce an abatement of caution. London is still very 
empty, and there is nothing to be done except going to the 
play. Luckily that is one of my favouhte amusements ; 
and still more luckily, the few people who are in town seem 
to be of the same opinion ; so that, whenever there is any- 
thing worth going to see, a couple of boxes are taken, in 
whidi Lady Le Despencer and her daughters. Lady de Ros, 
Lady Perceval, and all the men they can pick up, establish 
themselves, and we generally sap at Lady Le Despencer's 
afterwards. I have neither seen nor heard anything of the 
Princess, since she removed to Blackheath, except a report 
that she is in future to reside at Hampton Court, because 
the Princess Giarlotte wants the apartments at Kensington. 
But I cannot beUeve that the young Princess, who has been 
always described to me as so partial to her mother, would 
endure to turn her out of her apartment, or suffer it to be 
done. I have also been positiv^y assured, that the Prince 
has announced that the first exertion of his power will be 
to decide the fate of the Princess ; and that Perceval, even 
though he demurred at endeavouring to bring about a divorce, 
gave it to be imderstood that he should have no objection 
to her being excluded from the coronation, and exiled to 
Holyrood House.* However, I only give you these as reports, 

* I am confident that anch a course would never have been adopted 
by Ur. Parceval. He was not a man to lend himMlf to any measniM 



for which I know no foundation, and sincerely hope that there 
is none of a soUd natnre. While on the subject of royalties, 
I may as well tell you an anecdote, which, whether true or 
laJse, has amused me very much. They say, that when the 
Duke of CPareace] deputed Mrs. F[ ]n to make his pro- 
posals of mairiage to Miss L[o]ag,* she went to her and 
stated very gravdy that the Duke of Cparence] was willing 
to part with Mrs. J[orda]n, and give her place in his affections 
to Hiss L[ong] ; on which the poor Uttle girl thought that 
she was intended to officiate in the same capacUy with her 
ivedecessor : so she fell a crying, and called the unlucky 
ambassadress all the bad names that she could think of. 

Donald Macdonald called on me a few days ago, to tell 
me that his brother's marriage with Lady Caroline Edgcumbe 
is finally settled, and will take place with all possible expe- 
dition. I am heartily glad of it. Sir John Sinclair (the 
Duchess of Gordon's grandson) is going to be married to the 
daughter of Admiral de Courcy. Lady Oxford is returned 
to town, to lie in. Somebody said (in allusion to the old 
joke about the Harleian Miscellany) that to judge by her size, 
this production would be a very voluminous work indeed. 
I have not yet seen her myself, but I hear that she is looking 
eictremely iU, is in very low spirits, and, in short, is evidently 
quite chap-fallen. 

You say, " I wonder what you think of Trotter's Life of 
Fox ? " Now I wonder that, supposing I had only read 
two paragraphs, you could have any doubt of what I must 
think ; and stiU more I should wonder if, supposing that I 
had read the paragraphs, you should imagine it possible for 
me to read two more. I contented myself with the extracts 
in the newspapers, which were quite numerous enough to 
satisfy my curiosity, and prevent my wishing to see any 
more of the work. The Author was a person merely taken 
into Fox's family because he was a relation of the widow of 

which vere not strictly consonant with open, apright hoDoor. Had 
he b«m convinced of the Princess's guilt, he would not have upheld 
ber, or projessed himself her friend, while in secret he jinned in the 
party against her. [Original note.] 

* In 1813 she accepted William Welleslejr Pole ("who." tbeDukeol 
Buckingham wrote, regarding the Duke of Clarence's proposal, " is 
wholly indebted to him for this acceptance "), afterwards 4th Earl of 
Honiiiigton, the spendthrift and roui, and died in 182$. 



tbe Bishop of Down, who was Fox'g totw ; and be was only 

employed (as I und^taod) in maldng extracts from difierent 
works at Paris, which contained matters connected with 
Fox's projected History. This man has since thought faimseU 
not sufficiently taken notice of, not provided for by his 
patrons, relations, and friends, and he is, therefore, supposed 
to have published these memoirs with the benevolent inten- 
tion of vexing tbem. The work is evidently the induction 
of a disappointed man. His late dispute wilii the physicians, 
respecting his charge of their having accelerated Fox's death 
by the use of ^'^^"^'"1 is sufGdent to show how Uttle he is 
to be relied upon for accuracy ; and, as to his style, it is 
the most inflated bombastic manner of writing that ever 
yet came in my way, and would be much better adapted to 
" The Sorrows of Lady Henrietta Heartbroke : being tbe 
First Literary Attempt of a Young Lady." Lord Holland 
is so much offended, both at the manner and matter of 
the work, that be will not suffer it to occupy a place in his 
library, where even my trash finds room. 

I have heard of nothing good in the literary way ; bnt I 
read three volumes yesterday of the strangest, dullest, and 
most incomprehensible trash imaginable, two or three passages 
in which made me lau^ above measure, owing solely (I 
verily beheve) to the writer's being half a fool, and half a 
madwoman. It is the life of Mrs. Wells,* a ci-devant actress ; 
in which, among other things, she proves that the Duke of 

[ ] has given himself a vast deal of unnecessary trouble ; 

a thing of vrbicb I never should have suspected him. It 
seems that when a person is married already, and wants to 
many somebody else, nothing in the world is necessary but 
the simplest and easiest thing possible : he has nothing upon 
earth to do but to turn Jew t This is what Mrs. Wdls did 
with tbe greatest success ; and she always takes care not to 
confound her personages tc^ether. There is " her first 
husband " ; and then there is " her second husband " ; and 
then, again, there is "the father of her children" ; and I 
assure you, of all the distinctions I ever met with, these 
different distinctions are made out the clearest. As ^ was 
always in debt, she inveighs bitterly against the power of 
urest ; and prays devoutly, that the earth may open and 
• Uair Wdls (fi. 17S1-1S1S), Mrs. SnmbeL 



swallow all the lodMtp booses. And she says that being at 
Hastings' trial, a citizen's wife, who had looked at her, indo- 
lesdy begged her to lend her the newspaper ; " on which," 
says Hrs. Wells, " I said, loud enough for everybody to hear 
me, 'I'll see yon at the devil first.'" Every eye was in- 
stantly fixed on the citizen's wife ; she sank into her original 
littleiwss, and hastily quitted a society where she had mads 
herself so ridiculous 1 1— Addio. 

Ever yours, 

U. G. Lewis. 

Sunday, February 23d, i8iz.— The Princess Charlotte 
was at tiie opera last night for the first time, and much 
delighted, as it seemed. She leant over the box and bowed 
to every person she knew. Z could not leam if she was 
applauded or not. She went with the Duchess of York, 
Lord De Clifiord, and Bloomfield to attend her. Some 
one of her royal ancles, and Erskine, were I understand 
in the box. 

Monday. — I was glad to hear a person, very much 
against the Princess of Wales, say, that he considered 
what bad passed in the House of Conmions as decisive in 
her favour, and that nothing more can be attempted to 
be brought against her, nor would dta-e to be attempted 
on the other ^de — for the unpopularity is extreme. The 
Prince R^ent went yesterday in grand state to the 
Chapel Ro3ral; — ^the first time of his appearance as 
sovereign. As he proceeded from Carlton House to St. 
James's, surronnded by all bis pomp, &c., not a single 
huzza from the cxovid assembled to behold him I Not 
a hat off 1 Of this I was assured by a gentleman present, 
on whom I can depend. 

Eietract from a Letter. 

1 was actually g<ang to write to you about this said insolent 

drawing*ro(«n ; for such it is, and will help, I think, much 

to niM ammmetng indignation I butj for heaven's sake, let 



aay one who may, advise the Princess to remain where she 
is, and not stir hand or foot f<H herself, but leave that to 
others, and be asswed " qu'il s'en prisentera." I have heard, 
and in a way that makes me give some credit to it, that a 
man unconnected with opposition, who wishes to come 
forward and be talked of, ridi and independent, is in posses- 
sion of a copy of The Book, and that he means to purchase 
a seat, for the pturpose of laying this book before Parliament 
— to the dismay and confusion of Perceval and others of his 
followers, &c. 

I hear, that in consequence of the Princess having 
gone to Windsor to see her daughter, a message was sent 
to her from the R^ent by Lord Liverpool, to desire her 
not to go there again. Her reply was, that if she saw 
the Princess Charlotte as usual, once a week, she would 
obey ; but if not, she thought her duty in respect to 
her diild was paramount to all others. The Princess 
Charlotte has not come to her, and the Princess of Wales 
is determined to go again to Windsor. Her Royal 
Highness knows she will be refused seeing her daughter, 
but wishes to have the refusal in black and white ; and 
also to be able to say that she did all in her power to 
prove her love for Prhicess Charlotte. 

Extract from a Letter. 


What you have the goodness to ask as a favour, my dear 

[ ], I need not say I look upon as an lionour ; and I have 

finishoil two daubs, which I shall take the earliest private 
opportunity of sending to you. The one is Queen Eluabeth 
dancing, the other Louis XIV. and the Duchesse de la Valli^. 
Whichever of these unworthy performances you deem best, 
pray retain for yourself ; for, tiiough the Princess Charlotte 
is certainly a great person^e, and a budding queen, and one 
may give oneself great airs on having done a dmwing for her, 
yet I am a Jacobite and a Scotchman ; — so I would rather 
have the best of my poor efforts in the possession of yourself. 



than in that of the Princess Charlotte of Wales. Ever since 
I have possessed eyes and eais, I have known how to appre- 
ciate the honours done me by ihe former. Things have gone 
on rather stafndly, I think, since you left Edinburgh. "Hiere 
have been some parties, where people pretended to waltz, 
and imagined they were singing. Indeed, not to be above 
one's trade, with some exceptions, this city containeth few 
pretty, well-dressed women, and a number of Anthropophagi, 
and men whose heads 

Do grow beneath their sboolders. 

I had the honoor of being at Lady C[ ]'s one evening 

lately, and saw some Frendi country dances. I wish that 

you and Miss C[ ] had seen them, also ; there was every 

step of a dancing duck, and the line of beauty formed the 

wrong way. Pray tell Miss C[ ] that the principal Vestris 

was her humble admirer Charles C[ ], Bguiing with a new 

French (I presume) head, his hair being peaked up like Cor- 
poral Trim's Montera cap, or some of the foretope in Captain 
Cook's voyages. With this headgear, and holding his legs 
like a frog swimming, be was enou^ to IdU one with laugh- 
ing ; and he never could have his fill of it — ^for, whei. -ny 
poor Hiss fell pijring hot upon her chair, out of the ring, he 
always handed her up again, with a Idck-out of his heels 
that beggars all description. 

I saw Dr. A. R[obertsoal there, in very good health, but still 
bosy with the measled children in George's Square. His 
brother, an ofi&cer in the 92nd, is a very descendant of Adonis, 
and all the pelisses in Princes Street are in love with him. 

However, 'tis said he confines himself entirely to Miss G[ ], 

a lady rich in money and a hump, to which I fear Adolphus 
will never find a discussing plaster — for it appears to be a 
mighty obstinate tumour. She does not care so very much 
for good looks, but she is extremely fond of laurels ; and 

R[ ■] was at *** : — so she will wear his garlands apcm 

her shoulders ; while he will find her money a much more 
comfortable and substantial thing than a night cap of green 

I saw Hr. C[ ] here the other day. He is, I think, 

grown fat, and has always more light in his face than any- 
body ; but I wish he were away from this odious town — ^I 



mean odious with respect to yout^ men of fortune, and 
indeed to yoong men of any sort ; for I am old fashioned, 
I confess, in many points, and deem this place a very poison 
to the youthful soul. In London, young lads are dissipated 
enough, and thoughtless ; but I never found them set up, 
as they universally do here, for atheistic professors of every 
thing foolish and impious. David Hume has left that legacy 
to his unfortunate countrymen ; his ill-grounded reputation 
dazzles our college and our bar ; and I actually believe that 
there is not one Christian — I had almost said Theist — on 
the benches of our lecture-rooms, or on the boards of our 

A propos, our ladies are greatly sbodced with the free use 
of scriptural phrases in the ♦*****, and very ai^ry with the 
author on that account. For my part, as I have read a great 
many of the old Presbyterian sermons, I do not see those 
passages in so atrocious a Ught ; for they are nothing to the 
wonderful things one meets with in the effusions of Peden and 
Cai^ill ; whose favourite scriptural book appears to have 
been the Song of Solomon : — which song, by the way, I lately 
found in MS. in the Advocates' Library, translated into 
rhyme by Mistress Barbara Macky, and humbly dedicated to 
that most noble lady the Countess of Caithness, daughter 
to that thrice worthy marquess, my I.ord Marquess of Aigyll. 
And a conscientious translator Mistress Barbara was ; for 
she leaves not out one word of hei original : — ^but her fiddity 
is superior to her metre by many degrees. The Countess 
to whom she dedicates was twice married ; first to Lord 
Caithness, and then to Lord Breadalbane. Her picture, 
extremely pretty, is at Holyrood House. 

Poor B. H[ ] has got such a cold that she coughs the 

castle rocks into ten thousand echoes, and rouses Uie gad 
there every five minutes with the trumpet of her nose. I never 

saw her in so sad a condition. Not so Lady C[ ]1, who 

is going to marry Mr. B[ ]s forthwith, and seems very 

comfortatJe on ttie prospect. However, she will not have 

the satisfaction of carrying on the S[ ] family; for it 

appears that Mr. B[ ] hath a son — an unlicked lad ; and 

I was told that, the other evening, B[ ]'s old'nur^e (who 

always lives with him) and his laiidlady, looking out of the 
back windows by moonlight, beheld master salute the bouse- 



maid as they met in the cabbage gardoi ; on vhich tbe two 
indignant Lucretias sallied down stairs, and fell eadi upon 
her own property, with blows as well as words — and a dreadful 
scene there was I Nothing like the aproai hath been heard 
thereabouts, since the murder of David lUzzio. They had 
all been very nearly seized by the poUce. 
What became of the nymphs I know not ; but Uaster 

B[ '} is transmitted to the birch of the minister at Aber- 

lady, there to mortify in sackcloth and sea-coal ashes. If I 

did not know your goodness, dear [ ], I should beg ten 

thousand pardons for all this stufi ; but as it is, offering my 
very best wishes and respect, 

I rest yoor ever obliged, &c 

Monday. — I was shown to-day some verses by an 
accomplished man, which made me wish to be a free 
agrat, and to visit the scenes which be describes so well. 
Mr. Keppel Craven addressed them to a lady, a friend 
of mine. The writer was one of her Koyal H^hness the 
Princess of Wales's most intimate friends, and she valued 
bis acquaintance. A mind that was capable of appre- 
ciating such characters and talents as his, could not 
itself be devoid of taste and delicacy. 

Dated Scio, March, 1812. 
Think not, fair lady, though in foreign clime, 

'Hidst isles remote, a wanderer still I roam. 
That length of travel, or that lapse of time. 

Hath ^nished every thou^t of distant home : 

That home where all my old attachments dwell, 
Where infant hope and young emotions grew, 
Where breathe the valued friends I love so well, 
: Warm in affection, though in number few. 

Then lady, wonder not that when I view'd 
The lines you traced, my cheek with pleasure glow'd ; 

Nor deem it strange that thus my gratitude 
Should own the comfort which those lines bestow'd. 



Ob I they were doutdy welcome at that hour, ^ 
y When solitude and sickness were my lot ; 

/ They proVd by words of soft persoasive power 

'' Tliat, though far distant, I was not foi^. 

They sooth'd my sadness, and I leamt awhile 
The transient evils of this life to bear 

With patience, as I saw great Nature smile 
Upon the island she has made so fair. 

In truth, this isle is beanteons to behcdd, 
Well worthy of the ancient poet's choice, 

Who here had fixed his seat in times of old, 
And taught its shore the echo of his voice. 

In yonder bay, which no rude storms invade, 
Where, hushed in calm, the billows seem to sleep, 

Two Plantain trees extend their leafy shade, 
Above a spring that mingles with the deep. 

There, on a rock clad with luxuriant vine, 
llie Chian youths in eager number thrcmg. 

To learn the precepts of the man divine, 
Or hear the wonders of bis epic song. 

Hark yon the woody crags that crown the wave, — 
The ohve groves spread o'er the Lesbian plain ? 

Alcteus there to verse new measure gave, 
And Sappho sang, and loved, and wept in vain. 

Far happier he whom Teos called her own. 

The b^ who drank and laughed long life away ; 
Who scatter'd roses round a tyrant's throne, 
[ And lighten'd with his sfmg oppression's sway. 

See, in the windings of lona's coast, < 
Full many a spot enriched by classic fame ; 

Behold Miletus Tbales' wisdom boast. 
But prouder still of its Aspasia's name. 




Observe where Ephesos its temple rears. 
The seventh wonder of th' astonished earth ; 

That mighty monument, the work of years. 
Fell on the hoar that gave a conqueror birth. 

At nearer Chios, view the hallowed shrine 

Whose oracle the soleirm silent^ broke ; 
Eiythne, too, where, fired with rage divine. 

The Sibyl once in mystic accente spoke. 

Now smooth Ionia, grov'lling lie thy fanes. 

Thy massy porticos and columns tall ; 
Alone unchanged, thy genial breeze remains, 

And si|^ at even o'er theii mournful fall. 

Beneath the marble wreck the viper hides. 

The centipede along the cornice creeps ; 
Quick o'er th' Ionic scroll the lizard glides, 

While in the sculptured leaf the scorpion sleeps. 

Wthin thy ports mate solitude prevails, 

Which aits and industry eniidi no more ; 
No poetry is heard among thy vales, 

No music floats along thy desert shore ; 

Save ^ere perchance some foreign minstrel strays. 
And strikes the lyre with melancholy hand ; 

Or sadly chaunts in feeble notes the lays 
Whidi call to memory his native land — 

The lays, fair lady, which yon sang so well, 

Wthin the [Kedncts of that royal bower. 
Where beauty, talents, wit, and kindness dwell. 

And cheer the progress of each fleeting hour. 

> tin does the wandering troubadour aspire 

To taste the joys n4iich in those bowers are found ; 
Beneath their shade again to wake the lyre. 
And hear your voice accompany its sound. 



These pleasing hopes his sfHiits still sustain, 
And freshened courage to his steps impart ; 

They bid him ioi those halcyon days retain 
Unmoved his friendship, and unchanged his heart. 

ri/A May, i8i3. — I know not whether to have faith 
in presentiments or not ; but once or twice in my life 
" coming events " have " cast their shadows before," 
in a manner almost supematuraL To-day, I experienced 
the most gloomy melancholy I ever felt, without at the 
time having a cause for so doing ; but, late in the evoiing, 
as I was sitting with the Princess of Wales, she received 
a letter ; I observed her change colour while perusing 
its contents, and, covering her face with her hands, she 
exclaimed, " Oh ! something dreadful has happened ; 
I caimot read it aloud " ; but she pushed the letter towards 
me, and signed to me to do so. The letter was from 
Madame de Haeckle, giving an account of Mr. Perceval's 
assassination, by a man of the name of Bellingham, as 
he was going into the House of C<»nmons. — Revenge of 
private injuries was stated as the cause which led to the 
commission of this crime — that is to say, conceived 
injuries. Madame de Haeckle added, " God grant this 
may not be the signal for many coming woes I " — The 
panic struck us all, but no one more than the Princess. 
I never saw her so deeply affected before, or since. Mr, 
Lock alone declared he did not heUeve that the murder, 
dreadful as it was, had any connection with public 
events, but was a solitary instance of crime. About 
twelve at night, an express wluch the Princess sent to 
Mr. Arbuthnot returned, with a few words confirming 
the truth and accuracy of the first statement ; except 
that Madame de Haeckle said the deed had been committed 
in the House of Conunons, whereas it was done in the 
lobby of the House. The assassin immediately sat down, 
did not attempt to escape, and said he had no doubt 
his country would do him justice, when his wrongs were 



laid before the public ; he was sure the laws would respect 
him ; aod, in short, used the language of a fanatic or a 
maniac. Mr. Arbuthnot said he had lost his best friend, 
and never could have his loss replaced. The whole night 
was spent in conjectures upon the probable consequences 
of this horrible event. 

Extracts from Letters, 

Though I may not be able to send your Royal Highness 
more particulars than you are already acquainted with, 
respecting the atrodons and horrible morder committed last 
ev«iing, I find it impossible not to condole with your Royal 
H'E^i'*^ on an event the most lamentable that could have 
befedlen the nation at this time. I feel it the more sensibly 
from its being connected so immediately with your Hoy^ 
Highness, wiio has lost so true, steady, and firm a friend, at 
a time, too, when his strenuous efforts were employed to ptece 
your Royal Highness, if not in the situation you ought to 
hold, at least in one more proper and fitting than your {absent ; 
so, at least, I have been positively informed. On the event 
being known, the Speaker moved an adjournment. The 
depositions of the witnesses present were ta^en immediately 
by Mr, Corme and Mr. M. A. Taylor, which I nndeistand 
tnings the act home to the perpetrator, Mr. Bellingham, a 
Russian merchant Uving at Liverpool. He also confesses 
the crime. The Lords voted an address to the Regent, 
which was immediately taken up and presented to him. 
Insanity is, of course, ascribed to the assassin — the motive, 
disappointment at not receiving ccmipensation for losses in 
his trade. Lord Granville Leveson is also said to be a person 
of whom Bellingham complains ; but his lordship has for- 
tunately escaped. As to what government will now be formed, 
that is entirdy matter of conjecture — but a few hours must 
decide. As your Royal Highness may probably determine 
to defer your appearaa<% in public to-morrow, I shall take it 
as a favour if you will let me know your [Measure. 
I have the honour to remain, &c, Ac. 

(Signed) A. B. St. Lxgbs. 



Tuesday, [ ], 1813. 

Nothing has yet transinred of ministerial arrangements, 
nor is it even known wham the Prince Regent has seen ; but 
it is thought that the same ministry are to be continued, and 
that they will still venture to try their hand. The Prince 
Regent certainly has a mind towards Lord Wellesley, and 
as certainly saw him before Perceval's death, — I believe on the 
Wednesday preceding ; but whether Lord Wellesley will 
join with these, that is, thinks himself sufficiently strong or 
not, is doubtful. I dread him I He is violent, arrogant, 
and haughty 1 Poor Perceval as a joivate man is mudi to 
be regretted ; as a minister, not so ; as is most plain by the 
way his death is received by the people I He would not 
believe in their present distress and difficulties, nor bold out 
any consoUng hope for their relief ; and all that has followed, 
and I fear mil follow, is in a great measure the consequence 
of his harsh and headstrong disbelief in miseries too manifest 
to be doubted. No wonder, then, if the people grow violent 
and unmanageable from despair, and seek remedies, alas 1 
where they are least likely to be found, and throw all into con- 
fusion 1 I cannot, as some do, put my head into a bag, and 
fancy others do not see me ; ot shut my eyes, and not see 
the gloomy prospects of the country. As to the opposition 
coming in at present, I neither believe nor wish it. 

I last night saw at Mr. G. Lamb's several members of the 
House of Commons who were present, both at the moment 
of the assasM nation, and at the examination of the assasedn ; 
and likewise Lord Lauderdale, and some of the other lords, 
who carried up an address to the Prince Regent. There is 
not the least appearance, or evidence, or indeed suspicion, 
of this vile act being done in concert with anybody or any 
party of people, or of the murderer having any accomplice. 
He had been in former times a ship-broker, (or somethiiig of 
that sort,) at Liverpool, and within these few years was resi* 
dent in Russia upon some commercial business, where his 
conduct was etemaUy getting him into scrapes, and giving 
much trouble to Lord Granville Leveson, our then minister 
there. It is said, too, that he was for some time confined 
in that country, on account of positive insanity. At present, 
he seems perfectly calm, and free from any of the manners 
oi a madman. He said upon bis examination that he was 



perfectly aware of the atrocity of the action, but that if he 
was to be calmly heard, he did not doubt that he could justify 
it. He never attempted escape, either before or after bis 
seizure. The Prince Regent received the address of the 
Lords within an hour after the event had taken place, with 
eveiy due and decent expression of legret ; it was carried up 
to Carlton House by Lords Grey, Lauderdale, Lansdown, 
Holland, the Duke of Rutland, and some one else whose name 
I have forgotten, accompanied by all the Princes and the 
Duke of York, who delivered it. The address was one merely 
stating the horrible crime that had been committed on the 
peison of a member of the Lower House within the precincts 
of Parliament, and praying a minute inquiry, and speedy 
justice upon the deUnquent. The House of Commons, in 
their confusion, had adjourned without coming to any vote 
on the subject. You may easily conceive the effect this 
event must have had on all society last night in London, 
and bow it, and nothing else, was talked of universally, with 
all the horror which such a catastrophe must inspire. I am 
sorry to add, that its effect on the mob who had collected 
at the doors of the House of Commons before the murderer 
was removed, was by no means such as could be wished — 
I mean, that they did not seem at aU impressed with horror 
at such a crime, so committed, but seemed careless about the 
matter, and even disposed to joke ; without, however, any 
party cry, or any disposition to rioting. 

Her Royat Highness sent for me again the next day. 
She repeated all that bad been said the precedii^ evening ; 
and then she drew conclusions as to the future, respecting 
the ministry, the Govenunent, and other public matters, 
with such ingenuity of combination, and so much soimd 
reasoning, that I had a higher opinion of the powers of 
her mind than I ever entertained before. 

"The Prince," said she, "never will have sufficient 
energy to change bis whole set of ministers, whatever 
he may wish to do ; and he will merely get in Lord 
Welleslqr, or some such person, to plaister up the rent 
this great man's death has made." Then ^e added. 



with an expression of feeling which excited my wannest 
sympathy for her sitaation, *' I have lost my best friend ; 
I know not where to look for another : — though even he 
was changed towards me since he had become one of 
the ministers. Whoever is in power becomes always 
more or less the creature of the Prince, and of course 
less friendly to me. No, no," she said, '* there is no 
more society for me in England ; for do you think if 
Lady H[arrow]by, and the Duchess of B[eaufor]t, and 
all tiiat set, were to come round to me now, that I would 
invite them to my intimacy ? Never. They left me 
without a reason, as time serves, and I never can wish 
for them back again. I am too proud for that. I do 
not say that, were they to be civil again, I never would 
ask them to a great dinner, or bEdl : that is quite anoder 
affair. Mais vous sentez bien, dat to have dem in de 
intimate footing dey used to be on, coming every Simday 
night, and all dat sort of ting, never. No, I repeat it, 
so long as dat man lives, [meaning the R^ent,] les choses 
vont de mal en pire for me — for whoever comes in to serve 
him, even dose calling themselves my friends, are just 
the same ; they will set me aside, and worship the 
Regent. Enfin, I have had patience for seventeen years, 
and I conclude I must for seventeen years longer." 

To hear complaints too well founded, to be low spirited 
oneself, to have no consolation to ofier, save of a kind that 
unfortunately for her she has never been taught to resort 
to, and consequently cannot benefit from, is a very 
painful situation for any one to be in who is her friend. 
I admire her in many instances ; I honour her masculine 
noblenesss and magnanimity ; but I feel that we are 
too far apart in our habits and views, for me to be able 
either to' divert, or entertain, or comfort her. I can 
listen, however ; and that is always some consolation. 

She received various letters from all her intimates, 
fiU«d with accounts of the tragic evesat ; then her Royal 



Highness proposed driving to Lady Oxford's, to consult 
with her. I did not immediately contradict her ; but 
the idea of driving to Lady Oxford's at a moment when 
I knew that all eyes would be turned upon her, terrified 
me for her sake. Shortly after, she ordered her phaeton ; 
I know not what impelled me, but I exclaimed, " Oh ! 
I trust not to go to Lady Oxford ; I am so afraid. Madam, 
of what may be said." On looking up, I saw a rising 
storm upon her countenance. She affected great com- 
posure, and said with a pettish air, " Oh, 'tis all one, I 
assure you — let us not go " ; upon which she turned short 
upon her heel, and walked away in anger into the garden. 
I felt sorry at having been guilty of anything she deemed 
disrespectful. I knew not what to do, but I thought I 
had done what a real regard for her demanded ; so I 
followed her, and, when I came up to her, I saw that 
she wished to hide her anger, and, with a command of 
temper, rare in most persons, but admirable in a princess, 
she began talking upon indifferent subjects with great 
self-command, and I saw that she was determined to 
forget the circumstance, and I on my part resolved never 
to repeat the offence. After all, I knew that she would 
always follow the bent of her own inclinations, and 
nothing but an imprudent impulse of real friendship 
made me hazard one word of advice. 

When I was first introduced to her Royal Highness 
she gave me her opinion upon the subject of advice, and 
after we became better acquainted, she said, with many 
flattering expressions on my character, " Now I look 
upon you as a friend, and we shall never quarrel if you 
never give me any advice." In future, therefore, I 
determined (and I kept to my determination) that unless 
her Rojral Highness should call upon me to act in any 
business, or on any occasion, that I deemed hurtful to 
myself personally, I would neither contradict nor advise 
her — that was the province of others. Fortunately, or 



unfortunately, it is difficult to say which. Lady Oxford 
herself, came, accompanied by Lord A. Hamilton, and 
Lord G[re]y. These visitois prevented her going out, 
to commit any imprudence to which the excited state 
of her mind might have tempted her. 

Thursday, 14/A. — The drawing-room was put off, 
which, of course, disappointed the Princess, as she 
wishes to be on the scene as much as i 

Saturday. — I was invited to Blackheath. The Princess 
Charlotte, as usual, at dinner ; Monaeur and Madame 
de Haeckle, Lady Elizabeth Whitbread, Miss Whitbread, 
and the Dowager Lady Grey. I was sorry to see these 
excellent people there on this day, because I feared her 
Royal Highness would be blamed for inviting them to 
meet her daughter ; as her enemies will turn everjrthing 
to her disadvantage, and exaggerate every error. The 
Princess had been forbidden to invite any persons what- 
ever to meet the Princess Charlotte. 

The Albany, Sunday. 

My dear [ ], — I shall have the pleasure of dining with 

you to-morrow, but you will see me quite crestfallen. Madame 
de Stael ! Ob ! Madame de Stael ! — " Ob ! Huncamunca t 
— Huncamunca, oh I " — How shall I write it ? She told me 
— she uttered it with her own lips — I heard it with my own 
ears — it was to my own face, which still bums with mortifi- 
cation, that she said it — she told me — shame checks my pen 
— in ^ort, she told me — that I was — inf^rieur ! Oh ! all 
ye gods, inl^rieur I Write it not, my hand. " The word 
appears already written : wash it out my tears " : and not 
inf^rieur merely, but tris inf^rieur ! Humiliatiag truth ; 
can I ever stuvive thy declaration ? What can I do ? whither 
shall I fly ? Malheureux que je suis I where hide my dimin- 
ished head ? — H^las ! — Oimi ! heigh ho ! — Oh dear I lack a 
daisy ! bubble and squeak, &c., and so forth. 

You may perceive that this mortification has nearly turned 



my head ; let me, therefore, use what little sense I have left 
to assure you that I am, 

Your sincere friend, 

M. G. Lewis. 

I saw ladies Melbourne and Cowper, Lords Worcester 
and Brook, walking upon the abominable Steyne, which 
looks to me like a piece of ground where fetons are allowed 
to take the air. " Oh ! how little fashionable folks know 
of rural enjoyments, or (I believe) of any enjoyment ! 
Lady M[elboume] is a friend of my friends, so I am sure 
there must be some fair stuff in her ; but she is sadly 
encased in worldly ice. I wish I could be very fine. I 
think it is a covering to all sorts of deformity ; and the 
silence and grandeur of it impose delightfully upon the 
multitude. The bareness and glaie of Br^hton put my 
eyes out, and the bustle and noise put my patience out : 
so Brighton is not in my good graces. 

I received a letter from the Princess. She tails me 

that the paper called the , has been bought over 

by Carlton House, and that the editor, a Mr. * * * 
is going to publish a correspondence, which he declares 
to have passed between the Princess hersdf. Lady 
A[m]e] H[amilton], and Lord P[ ], which corre- 
spondence her Royal Highness says is a forgery. She 
requests me not to take the in any more, and like- 
wise wishes all those who profess to be her friends, to 
forbid it in their families. One of her Royal Highness's 
ladies is much distressed at the omtinued alarms which 
such threats cause to her Royal mistress ; and, in writing 
to me by the Princess's desire to tell me of the above 

circumstance, Lady [ ] adds, that she thinks she will 

not be able to^continue in the Princess's service ; for 
not only is it a situation of constant uneasiness, but also 
of very great fatigue — such a perpetual excitement from 
little causes, that, during the period of her waiting, she 



never knows peace. Lady [ ] is sincerely attached 

to the Princess ; but she says, and says truly, that it is 
impossible for her, or indeed for any one else, to be of 
use to her Royal Highness ; for, if she asks advice cme 
day, she acts in direct opposition to it the next : and 

Lady [ ] adds, I foresee so much misery likely to 

be the poor Princess of Wales's lot, that I had rather, 
being unable to serve her, not be implicated in the blame 
which will fall upon those persons who, it is very naturally 
supposed, have some influence over her conduct. 

Fortunately for Lady [— ], the Windsor expedition, 
or royal siege, is not likely to take place during her 
time of waiting, for Lady De Clifford has got inflamed 
eyes, and has been obliged to come to town. Princess 
Charlotte * is in consequence shut up in the castle with 
the Queen Grandmother, and so all will remain as it is 
for the present. The Prince's going in person, or not, to 
the House on Monday, is uncertain. A negociation I 
hear is carrying on between Lord Wellesley, Canning, 
and the Whigs, in order to turn out the present Ministry, 
That would be a good deed ; but I dread Lord Wellesley 
as a minister more than any other ; he is ambitious, 
haughty, extravagant to excess. — Alas ! poor country ! 

Dicentber xnd. iSiz. 
The Princess Charlotte was at the House, and sat on 
the woolsack near the throne ; two of the Princesses 
came from Windsor to accompany her. It was remarked, 
that she talked and laughed much, turned her back often 
upon papa,t and had a certain expressive smile during 

• Princess Charlotte wrote to Lkdy de CUfiord during her absence, 
" We go on pretty well, considering all things, withoot you " ; and as 
the Bishop of Saliabnrs' (Dr. Fisher), whom she did not like, had sent her 
a letterof advice, she added : "When I answered the Bishop's letter I 
did all I conld to ntaJce it over waite fweightj. I hope I succeeded." 
t According to Karollne Ba.ner (Memoirs, li. p. 211). as already 
. quoted Is the Introdnction, Pridcess Charlotte said of her parents : 



the speech, which did not displease all the lords, nor 
all the ladies there. The Prince, it is said, was much 
displeased at her manner ; in addition to which the 
Princess Charlotte spoks to Lord Erskine, and nodded to 
Lord Jersey ; but those from whom I heard this seemed 
to be diverted only at what had passed, and attached no 
blame to her Royal Highness. The Prince was flurried 
and nervous, both in going to and returning from the 
House, but delivered his speech well. By the people 
he was received with dead silence, and not a hat off ; — 
some marks of disapprobation even, with scarcely any 
loyal greeting ; only a few plaudits as he went through 
the Horse Gwards, — no general burst of popular applause. 

There was a report of the Prince Regent's being 
iU ; and I was told that the King had been, and was, 
since Monday last, in such paroxysms, that they were 
considerably alarmed at Windsor. 

I have only observed the advertisement (of the letters 
the Princess of Wales wished to have published) once 
inserted in the Moming Chronicle, and it is not, I find, 
yet generally understood as being a genuine document. 
I am in hopes that some compromise may be offered 
from the other side ; and the less that is said about it, 
therefore, I think, the better. I dread the pubhcation 
of these epistles ; as, however great it may make her 
wrongs appear — and great in my opinion they are — 
yet it will give colour to a charge of breach of trust in 
making letters public that were never written to meet 
the public eye. This might not be an objection at a 
moment of personal attack, or after a lapse of years, 
when time brings foul and fair to light ; but Has not 
being at present the case, I repeat, that I dread th« 

" My mother was wicked, but she would Dot have turned so wicked 
had not my father beea much more wicked still." In hei Memoirs, 
Karaline Bauer quotes many thinsi from this Diaiy as from the "Diar? 
of Lady Charlotte Bury." 



publication of them, and think it is highly injudicious 
in her Royal Highness's advisers. 

It appears that Napoleon has got to Wilna, and is 
safe, with a great part of his anny. The Russian Am- 
bassadress, I heard from Lady Warren, is making all 
sorts of enquiries' as to the form in which she is to be 
presented to her Ro3'al' Highness the Princess Regent I — 
How will they get off this ? — I wish it may embarrass 
them, but fear it will not. 

Kbnsinqton, Monday. 
Came here yesterday by invitation. The house des- 
perately cold, and everjrthing else as bad as ever. Was 
commanded at half-past two, to accompany the Princess 
of Wales to see the youi^ princes, her nephews. She 
hates them, I don't Imow why, unless it is that, as she 
sajre, they are frightful. As usual, she was mighty 
gracious to me ; but that is because I am not curious or 
prying. I only wish I had ears and heard not, eyes and 
saw not ; — but, as that cannot be, I render myself as 
deaf, blind, and dumb as I can, and think myself perfectly 
justified in so doing. — Her Lady-in-waiting said to me, 
" things are grown so bad, so duU, so black, that if it 
were not for the determination, of putting a speedy end 
to my slavery, I could not endure it : to have, all day 
and all night, long complaints poured forth from which 
there is no remedy or reKef , — ^nothing in heaven or earth 
that one can point to as a sanctuary from them ! — ^The 
feehng that I tell you this, and that when in her presence 
I seem pleased, is a constant goad to my conscience, and 
would make me miserable, even if ennui and a con- 
sciousness of possible disgrace did not render me so. — 
All the day long her Royal Highness continues to talk 
of wishing people dead ; and I must not dare to con- 
tradict the wish. I have been sn accompUce in murder 
many a time, if silence gives consent." 



The Princess made many complaints of La reine des 
Ostrogoths, and long histories about the SquaUinis, and 

the G[ >, that really disgusted me. If she likes 

busying herself with such objects, I do not. The old 
ourang outang came to dinner, — more free and easy and 
detestable than ever, — I think of him pour tout Uen I 
Then her Royal Highness sang — squall — squall ! Why 
invite me ? 

After supper, she continaed the complaints. I cannot 
describe how wearisome, how unavailing and injudicious 
the subjects of her conversation now are in general. I 
know so perfectly that advice or even example is totally 
thrown away, and that every body who gives such is 
detested, without benefiting mer, that in the pass to 
which things are arrived th^ is only one course to be 
pursued, silence — and to break from her society. R^ret 
must and ever will have place in my thoughts, when I 
look back on the past, and think of the pleaseint days I 
have spent with the Princess of Wales, and recoUect 
how cruelly she has been treated : and how recklessly 
she has played into her enemies' hands, by going on in a 
course which must ruin her character and happiness. 

The persons who have gained undue it^uence over 
the Princess, have cunningly persuaded her to renounce 
all her former friends ; and she herself has too much 
sense not to be aware that the respectable individuals 
. who were a short time ago proud to frequent her society, 
would not do so now ; neitiier would her Royal Highness 
invite them ; for she knows her present associates are 
very tmfit company to be seen in her house ; so she 
pretends that she has found her old friends insincere 
and tinldnd, and professes not to like them. 

The next day, her Royal Highness made a party to 
go to a small cottage which she had taken in the neigh- 
bourhood of Bayswater, where she could feel heiseU 
unshackled by all the restraints of royalty and etiquette. 



There she received a set of persons wholly iinfit to be 
admitted to her society. It is true, that since the days 
of Mary of Scotland, (when Rizzio sang in the Queen's 
closet,) and in the old time before hpr, all royal persons 
have delighted in some small retired place or apartment, 
where they conceived themselves at liberty to cast off 
the cares of their high station, and descend from the 
pedestal of power and place to taste the sweets of private 
life. But in all similar cases, this attempt to be what 
they were not, has only proved injurious to them. Every 
station has its price — its penalty. Princds and Princesses 
must live for the public ; and, thoi^h it has sometimes 
been said that dissimulation is necessary to them, I 
believe it is the reverse. They are beacons set on a hill ; 
they must be an example, or a warning ; and, when they 
lurk about in comers, and forsake the society of those 
with whom they ought to associate, for that of low 
buffoons and characters who pander to their vanity and 
folly, the die is cast, and they fall rapidly to perdition. 
To some who have been more powerful than others, 
the descent has been more gradual ; but from whatever 
I remember in tale or history, those princes have become 
despicable, and finally lost, who gave themselves up to 
favouritism and all its attendant unworthiness. By 
the Princess especially, a more unwise or foohsh course 
could not have been pursued, than this imitation of her 
unfortunate Sister Queen, of France. All the follies, 
though not the elegance and splendour, of Trianon, 
were aped in the rural retreat of Ba}'swater, and the 
Princess's foes were not backward at seising upon this 
circumstance and turning it (as well they might) to effect 
her downfall. As far as regards this world only, it is 
much more frequently imprudence ^ than actual crime 
which finally hurls people to their destruction. 

AU the time that her Rojral Highness was going on 
in this idle, unworthy manner, there existed in her a half 



smothered compunction, which made her wish to excuse 
her conduct ; for none can entirely emancipate them- 
selves from blame, when aware that it is merited, or 
remain ignorant of the sentence which they deserve to 
have passed upon them by their fellow mortals. The 
Princess said, how ill it would appear in the eyes of the 
world, if she diverted herself, and gave balls and as- 
semblies, when no further supphes were granted to her, 
and that she must consequently run into debt if she 
iocurred any unnecessary expenses. Besides, unhappy 
as she was at being deprived of the Princess Charlotte's 
society, how could she affect gaiety ? — would not her 
doing so have the worst possible appearance ? would not 
people blame her, and say, all she wanted was to amuse 
herself ? — " there, you see, she cares not for her daughter, 
so that she has company." 

There was much plausibility in all this lying ; but 
unfortunately, I am too well acquainted with the interior 
to be BO deceived. To say the truth, I often wonder that 
the world is as easily gulled as it is by the great httle 
people : it only proves that it is the station, and not the 
human being, that twists and metamorphoses every 
thing ; but a near inspection of Les lours de Passe-passe 
reduces all the magic to mere juggling. Sometimes, I 
am enraged at myself for eijduring to be in their society 
for a moment, much more so for laughing or seeming 
pleased ; but I have the same sensation as if I was living 
with mad people, and really humour her as much as I 
would do them, for fear of the immediate consequences 
to myself. Yesterday, at dinner, before the servants, 
she told ike abominable, that a hundred virgins had 
strewed flowers in the Duke of Brunswick's way, on his 
g in Holland, &c., &c. 

Tuesday, lith. — The music mania is at its highest 
pitch ; the intervals between singing and eating, are 



filled up with tedious complaints, which mean nothing, 
or nothing that they ought to mean. The Princess 
obliged one of her ladies to tell the ourang outang's 
fortune. It was not difficult to tell of his impudence and 
cunning and rap2iciousness ; but he would not take the 
hint. It was quite a relief to-day to be invited to meet 
Mr. Gell, Mr. Knight, and Mr. Craven at dinner ; but 
her manner to them, especially to the two latter, would 
be comical in the extreme, if it were not melancholy, 
from the knowledge of the source whence it arises. I 
could not help looking with a scrutinizing glance at Mr. 
Craven, and I think his eyes are unsealed. Mr. Cell's 
are still close shut ; but the bonhonunie and truth with 
which he speaks to her Royal Highness, are very divert- 
ing. He talked of a gentleman who sings divinely, and 
who is very handsome and agreeable, and wished to be 
allowed to be presented to her Royal Highness ; at which 
I saw the Princess quite furious. A rival Squallini I 
mercy upon us — what should we do ? how should we 
dare to l^ten to any other music than that of the one par 
excellenct ? in short, nobody is to come into the house 
but Squallinis. 

She told me she should sell all her plate, all her toilette 
ornaments given her by the King, every thing, in short, 
which she could convert into money — for money she must 
have. Another person in my place, would say to her 
Royal Highness, when she is detailii^ her money griev- 
ances, " surely, madam, if you have gained £2000 a 
year by putting your servants on board WE^es, and that 
you have had ^looo from another source, and that you 
get ^i2oo a year by not paying your ladies, you ought 
to be richer than ever, — but no, I never said one word 
of all this — ^ quoi bon ? — She is absolutely infatuated : 
she even talks of marrying again — but never till she has 
tried the favoured mortal, and made him pass' five times 
throtigh the fiery fumace of constancy and truth : there 



is an ordeal for you ! — it is more truly an ordeal than 
Hiss Adair's.* To kill the Regent ; then go abroad, 
with a court of her own making, of which the fiddler is 
to be king ; this is her favourite plan. Campbell is to 
write the epithalatnium, and Lady C[harlotte] L[indsay] 
and Lady Qharlotte] C[ampbell], the two favourites, 
are to be the ladies of the bedchamber — and * * * 
•****" Don't you think this will be delightful ? " 
she asks me. 

Though the Princess was plajring at chess with Lord 
Palmerston, she overheard every word I said, and that 
was not agreeable, though, in fEu:t, I said nothing that 
was of any consequence. I endeavoured as much as 
possible to turn the conversation upon books, and upon 
such books as I was aware she would not have the patience 
to read. Nevertheless, from a quickness of perception, 
great tact, and an excellent memory, she catches the 
title of every work, and, having turned over the leaves, 
has a sort of smattering of the contents, which she hashes 
ap with other people's opinions, and gives the whole en 
richauffS, with a faux bhUant which imposes on the many. 

As soon as these men went away, she felt a weight 
removed from her. She cannot now bear to be in good 
society : she calls it dull ; and, true enough, good society 
is often dull — ^whereas, what is called "good" (though 
often bad) is the reverse. What strange mi^iomers 
there are in the world I but it is possible to unite great- 
ness with goodness ; and, at all events, it is a great merit 
to bear dulness wiUi patience. 

The Princess is alwajre busying herself with the multi- 
plication-table — that is, putting two and two together. 
She asked^me if I thought Lady Charlotte] Cfampbell] 
would many Mr. Arbuthnot. I burst out lai^hing, and 
replied, " Fiist of all, is he so inclined ?— I believe not. 

* Hiss Adair, alterwards Mrs. Grey, wrote a novel called the 
OideaL [Oiigiiul note.] 



And, secondly, I know Lady [Charlotte] is oot inclined, 
icittier for lovers or matrimony, at present." * -j 

The Princess theniheld Lady Cpiarlotte] C[ampbeU] 
very cheap, and returned to the old story. It is difl&cult 
to say^to any persons that one thinks their principles 
libertine, or rather that they have no principles at all ; 

but I told her Roj^ Highness, that I knew Lady [ 3 

would never be made happy by any illicit attach- 
ment, and that the sting of what she conceived guilt, 
and the anxiety of concealment, would alwa3rs make her 
wretched- To this, the Princess replied, " Married love 
never lasts ; 4<xt is not in de nature." I confessed that 
I had seldom or ever known it do so ; but that even 
were it the case, and that a married woman found herself 
obliged to resign the sweet illusions of passion, she had 
yet the sober consolations of esteem from others — of the 
applause and consideration of the world — above all, the 
inward peace of self-satisfaction ; whereas, a woman who 
was a mistress, was alwa3rs in danger of losing her lover, 
and with him she lost everything. To this, her Ro3ra] 
Highness had nothing to reply. I spoke merely as to 
the worldly consideration of the subject ; for I knew that 
view of the matter would weigh raost vrith her. I do 
not think she likes me when I speak thus. I assured 

her, Lady [ ] was sincere in her principles ; but 

she hopes she is not stedfast in them. 

7"A«rsrf<ty.— Yesterday, Mr. Arbuthnot, Mr. Ward, 
Mr. LuttreU. Mr. Cell, Mr. N[ugen]t ( ?}, Mr. Fox, and Lady 
Charlotte Lindsay dined at Kensington. Of all these 
persons, Mr. Gell is, I believe, my favourite ; I think he 
is really good, and I cannot like any one long, that has 
not that stable foundation whereon to rest. The con- 

* Sbedid not marrya second time until iSi8,when,on Marcb 17th. 
at Lady Burghersh's house in Florence, she married tlie Rev. Edward 
John Bury, a clergyman of fooA birth and artistic tastes, whom she 
had known as her sons' tutor. 



versation was of that kind which most delights the 
Princess — briUiant, evanescent, and devoid of reflection 
— a sort of sparlding fire which only makes darkness 
visible — ^which moves the muscles of the face to laughter, 
but never dilates the heart with real joy. If flattery 
could delight, I had enough of it : but itj^has ceased to 
charm me ; for it is only intoxicating when one can bear 
its trophies to the feet of a beloved object as an offering 
to its merits ; 'tis nothing when it is an idle gratification 
of selfish pleasure. Mr. N[ugen}t is a fat, fubsy man, 
very like a white turkey-cock ; but he is a good musician, 
reads music at sight, and sings correctly. Mr. Fox is 
a little hideous black man, who is called clever ; perhaps 
only because he bears that name ; though I am tempted 
to give him credit for somewhat of reality, but it is only 
upon credit, for I never heard him say anything that 
coiild sanction the beUef. Of all that was said, I only 
remember that these persons praised Lord Byron's 
English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, and declared they 
were surprised it had not made more noise, as it was 
the cleverest thing that ever was written. This backed 

Lady M[ Js opinion. They added that it was the more 

wonderful it should be so, because his " Hours of Idle- 
ness " was remarkably weak and poor. It is curious to 
hear all the different opinions that people give of each 
other. On Saturday, Lord L(uca]n <Uned here ; he 
hates Lord H[artington], and there appears to be no love 
lost between them. I like the latter much the best ; he 
says, Lady E. BCingham] is an ijnpudent, forward girl — 
that she pursued Lord H[artington] k toute outrance — ^who 
declares openly that he does not mean to have any 
thing to do with her. I believe both these assertions 
to be true. 

People say that the unfortunate King may linger much 
longer, but that, whenever the Prince does come to the 
throne, he will make no change in the administration, 



and that he will also totally abandon the Catholic ques- 
tion, in spite of having promised to support it ; — that 
this conduct will raise a rebellion, and that it is what 
ministers wish, because it will give them an oppor- 
tunity to act with greater rigour, and by violence to 
extirpate the Roman Catholics, or at least their tenets, 
altogether. Others say, that as this is impossible, it 
will only breed a civil war. There was much talk yester- 
day at dimier about Mr. G[ ] ; the Princess hates him ; 

she says, he is so mischievous and so tattling ; she added, 
" I could forgive him for anything he said of myself, 
because I have good broad shoulders ; but he calls my 
daughter an abandon'd little thing, and d — n me [she 
often swears that oath,} if ever he shall meet her in this 

house again. The case vas, you see, that Mr. G[ ] 

abuse all the Royal Family to her, vich vas a great im- 
pertinence as I should say, and she, poor little ting, vanted 

to excuse dem ; so wen Mr, G[ ] in his wisdom said 

it was pity de Duke should have his mistress here, vare 
de princesse was, she answered, ' Oh Lord upon us, vat 
would you have ; de Dukes cannot marry, dey must love 
somebody.' It would have been better had my daughter 
said, as one should say, dat is a subject on which I never 
speak ; but she is a young ting, and not prepared for 
such matters. — No, no, let us speak no more of Mr. 
G[ ] 'tis such an impleasant subject." 

MoKTAGOE House.— I arrived at three, found nobody 

but old J[ ] : the horrid din continued till five, then 

eating, then din ^ain till dinner at seven. I think my 
ears never underwent such martyrdom. After dinner, 
again the music * was continued till ten without ceasing : 
he was then dianissed, and I was kept till two in the 
morning. The Princess told me "that everything was 
going on as she wished — ^tbat they were playing her game 
■ With the Sapios. 



— that she had the cards in her own hands," and a great 
many more mystical nothings, with which she deceives 
herself, and fancies she deceives others. The only facts 
I could catch hold of, were that Lady de CUfford had 
resigned, and that the Duchess of Leeds was proposed 
to succeed her as governess to Princess Charlotte, but 
that she (the Princess of Wales) as well as Lady de Clifford, 
had advised the young princess never to allow another 
governess to come near her ; a piece of advice, I conclude, 
which tallies too well with her own inclinations for her 
to disregard it. What interest Lady Clifford could have 
in this advice, I know not, unless it were the vanity of 
saying " Princess Charlotte never had any governess 
after me." Then, continued her Royal Highness, " Mr. 
Broi^ham has written me a letter of twelve pages, 
which, as soon as he returns to town, when Parliament 
meets, I am to send to the Regent and the Chancellor, 
respecting my cruel situation, and my not being permitted 
to see my daughter ; — to which letter he must give some 
answer ; but I have taken care to write a copy of it to 
the Ministers, also, weU knowing that he woidd put the 
paper in his pocket and never say more about it." 
I had nothing to do but to bow, and listen. ." Oh ! 

my dear [ ] therewill be such a crash ! " "I trust itwill 

be all for the t>est," said I. " Nothing can be worse," 

said she. " Oh ! my dear [ ^]," resumed the Princess, 

after a short pause, " there is all sort of tracasseries at 
Lee." Of that I had no doubt. — Such jealousies and 
quarreUings, Lady A(nne] fighting with Lady P[erceval], 
the one supporting the Sapios, the other, that is Lady 
A[uie], wishing to turn them out of the seminary. Then 
the young Miss G( ] making love to the young cap- 
tain ; and the old man in a fury, and the yoimg lover 
mighty cool. — " Lady [Anne]," said the Rincess, " is 
very much attached to me, and has many good qualities, 
but has a love of meddling, and prying, and managing. 



and a want of tact I cannot endure. And, in short, 
'tis nothing but little things ; but in little things she is 
constantly doing what is disagreeable, and there is not 
a hole or comer into which she does not follow me — 
she has such a manque de lacte, that she wears me to death 
— no, I could not suffer it long." — " I wonder your Royal 
Highness did not tell her of your dislike to have any one 
in your apartment." — " No, my dear [Lady Charlotte], 
I showed it to her, but, to say get out, I could not." 
This was spoken with real good nature, 

I was unwilling to add my mite of disapprobation 
against the poor Lady [Anne], and said what I could in 
her favour — and the Princess replied, " If I had a house 
in town, it would be very different. None of my ladies 
should live in my house. I would give Lady C, L[indsay] 
and Lady C. Qampbell], a house each of their own, and 
this would be a good excuse never to have the ladies I 
do not like, as well as Lady C[harlotte] L[indsay] and 
Lady C{harlotte] C[ampbell], except at dinner." — Her 
Royal Highness said many kind things about myself and 
my own concerns — she praised those I love, and promised 
never to forget the little services they had rendered her, 
*' You shall see, the instant I have anything in my 
power." One must not, however, put one's trust in 
princes ; and, though I believe her Royal Highness 
intends to do what she says, I fear perhaps her opinions 
may change, when she has the power of doing what she 
now wishes. 

Sunday. — After lunche(m, I accompanied the Princess 
(attended by her Lady-in-waiting) to town, to the Duchess 
of Brunswick's. The Duke of Gloucester • was there ; 
he received the Princess very heartily ; party, as well as 

• Wiltiam. Duke of Gloucester (i?76-i834), only son of William, 
Duke of Gloucester, brother of King Geor^ III., and of Maria Walpole, 
Dowager Countess Waldegrave. He lemained urnnairied until after 
the nuuriage of Princess Charlotte, betng, it wu thought, as an English 



interested views, perhaps of the highest kind, may in- 
fluence him ; but from all I can leam he is a good man, 
and has the upright solid basis of religion and virtue 
which distinguished the poor fallen Monarch. The con- 
versation between these three royal personages put me 
exactly in mind of the Margravine of Baretth's Memoirs ; 
and I think all accounts of courts, and the petty trans- 
actions therein, must have precisely the same stamp. 
The dd Duchjss talked chiefly of the Queen and the 
Princesses hz ^ring visited her ; upcn which her daughter, 
the Princess of Wales, addressed herself as loud as she 
could, across her mother, to the Duke of Gloucester, not 
liking to hear her enemies, as she conceives them, so 
dwelt upon, and with such complacency. Then they 
talked <j the death of Lady Ailesbury, and immediately 
of who would get her place in this world ; then of the 
death of a Mrs. Fielding, and who would get her place ; — 
apon which the Princess of Wales rolled her eyes in signal 
of beii^ weary ; though, in talking of the places she 
intends to bestow if she ever has the power, she is not 
at all aware that to those not particularly on the look- 
out, it must be equally tiresome. — ^Then they mentioned 
the New Theatre, and the Duke said, "Nobody but 
Mr. Whitbread could have done so clever a thing.*' 
" Why," said the old Duchess, " is he an architect ? I 
thought he was only a brewer." — Not so bad that, — 
only that it was not meant to be good. The Duke said 
— " No, ma'am — only no one but he could have had so 
much taste and ingenuity." Then their Ro}raI Highnesses 
made a joke on the conveniences attached to the private 
boxes ; after yAach the conference broke up — the loss 
of peace was given — and the Princess came back tme. — 
On the way, Lady At ] was started as fresh game. 

prince, & suitable parti if no foragn prince wu selected as her consort ; 
and tbcD nukiried, Jaljr aa, 1816, bn aant, Princess Haiy, daoghter of 
King George III. ,_ ^ 



'' Think, my dear ( }, of ano^ber petiteoM. Miss R. 

was with me. and, talking o< masters, observed that 
she could not afiord them here as she could abroad, 
which she regretted. * Now,* said she, ' I want to have 
such a master for such a thing — ^but it costs so much.* 

* Oh I ' said Lady A£ ], * that's Mr. Bolton, the best 

man in the world, and so cheap, only five shillii^ a 
lesson.' Accordin^y, Hiss R. had this master, bat 
fonnd out that be had three ex four guineas entrance 

money, which Lady A[ ■] had never mentitmed. 

Accordingly, she wrote to the latter to meaation the 
circumstance, and to say she could not employ him. 

Upon which Lady A[ ] asks me to pay de tree 

guineas. Can you conceive I I say, ' oh ! yes, to be 
sure,' but I tink de thing has not the sens commun, 
for why should I pay de mastMS of all de misses ? " 

I quite agreed with her Royal Highness in the meaimess 
of such contrivances. 

After dinner, the Princess received a letter inym the 
Princess Charlotte, who told her she had written to the 
Prince her father refusing, but in a very respectful 
manner, to have any more governesses, and gave the 
Princess of Wales an account of a dispute she had with 
the Queen and her Aunts about it. The Princess of 
Wales was in the third heaven of delight. 

Her Royal Highness showed me Mr. Brougham's 
letter, which she is copying, that it may go to the Prince. 
It is a most capital letter, setting forth her wrongs ; 
and, providing the basis be solid upon which it is founded, 
her cause must be secure. No petulance, no anger, but 
dignity, tenderness, and propriety. Then what may they 
not answer 7 They may say ii is ail true, if so, and so 
were not ; but if so, and so, and so is, why then so, and 
so, and so is justice, and not injustice, — and all this 
depends on this so and so being proved, or disfffoved. 
God grant all may be for the best.' 



Tuesday, i2th. — I received Walter Scott's Rokeby. 
I gazed at it with a transport of impatience, and b^an 
reading it in bed. I am abeady in the first canto : — 
my soul has glowed with what he justly terms " the art 
unteachable." My veins have thrilled ; my heart has 
throbbed ; my eyes have filled with tear*— during its 
perusal. The poet who can thus master the passions 
to do his bidding, must be indeed a poet.* 

Wednesday, 13M. — ^The Princess came to me yestorday 
in a great bustle, as though she were " big with the fate 
of Cato and of Rome." She had received another letter 
from her daughter : — such a character ; such firmness ; 
such determination ! She was enchanted. The Prince 
had been with the Chancellor to Windsor, and in presence 
of the Qaeen, demanded what she meant by refusing to 
have a governess. She referred him mtirely to her 
letter, — upon which the Queen and her father abused 
her, as being an obstinate, perverse, head-strong girl. 
" Beades," said the Prince, " I know all that paned in 
Windsor Park ; and if, it were not for my clemency, I 
would have shut you up for life. Depend upon it, as 
long as I live you shall never have an establi^mient, 
unless yoQ marry." t 

" Charlotte never spoke, or moved a muscle,*' said the 

* Hie original nota tays : " Bat truth most be told :— he behaved 
ill to m womui — and that woman her (tie) who waa to be hia qaeen I 
From having literally set at hei feet — from having, in one of the moat 
spirited of his songs, expressed devotion to her cause, he suddenly 
veered ronnd to the Regent, and never after testified the riighteet 
remembranca of his having once coorted her favour : — verily ha had 
his reward." 

f Qaeen Charlotte reported this scene to Miss Knighton January 16, 
in a way which ibowed her feelings towards her grand-daaghter. ' ' Onr 
conversation was very gtnante, till at last we got on the snbject of 
Princess Charlotte. The Queen spoke of her with all the prejudice and 
enmity which she had for years imbibed against her, related to me all 
that hod passed between her Royal Highness and the Chancellor, and 
conndered her dignified behavionr as hardneas of heart." It is no 
wonder, perhaps, oiat the Princess " bated her grandmother." 



Pttocess of Wales ; " and the Prince and the Chancellor 
departed as they came. Nothing could be more deter- 
mined or immoveable than she was : — in short, we must 
frighUn the man into doing something, otherwise he will 
do nothing ; and, if mother and daughter cannot do 
this, nothing can. — On Sunday, I shall send my letter — 
but I do not think gentle means will ever avail. — If we 

were in past times " and her Royal Highness looked 

quite fearful as she spoke I 

I know not what to reply, when she talks thus. What 
I think is most likely to ensue — and I fear 'tis what is 
best — is, that she will be set aside entirely, as a factious 
spaii, dangerous to the peace of the coimtry. 

Yet, after such a conversation as the above, her Royal 
Highness could begin squalling with S[apio] and for- 
get her cares and vital interests, in the amusement of 
frighfeniHg the air with horrible sounds, till past one in 
the morning I — Tis wonderful I — After all, what right 
has the Princess Charlotte to disobey her father ? Those 
persons who are never governed, axe not, surely, fit to 
govern others. 

I am agitated for the consequences of the intrigues 
that are going on. I am sincerely attached to the Princess 
Charlotte, but I shrink from betog obliged to say, " very 
firm, and very fine," when I think, "very obstinate, 
and very wrong-beaded." — If die is without shame, or 
fear of God or man, at seventeen, what is to become of 
her — of us ? Hearing of crooked wasrs and mean policy 
disgusts me, and creates a tremor, as though X were 
surrounded by a parcel of opera devils, shaking their 
rean torches in my face. 

Thursday, 14th. — ^T. Campbell accompanied me by 
invitation to see her Royal Highness. About seven 
o'clock, a messenger arrived from Princess Charlotte, 
which occasioned a great bustle, and some tears to the 



Princess of Wales, who is in despair, for the young 
Princess consents to receive the Duchess of Leeds as her 
governess, after all her violent objections to do so. 
This circumstance decided the Princess of Wales on 
sending oS her own letter directly to the Regent per 
messenger. How far this sudden and premature dis- 
posal of her letter may suit Mr. Brougham's intentions, 
I know not. Mais la bombe est partie, and the mine is 
sprang. I fear all it will produce will perhaps be, an 
order to shut her up in some dose confinement, allowing 
her to see nobody. Sometimes, I hope the best, but 
oftener fear the worst for this poor woman. 

Friday, isth. — To-day, the Princess received an answer 
from Lord Liverpool — only a few lines, — ^returning her 
letter to the Regent unopened, and 3a}ring, that he was 
commanded by the Prince to inform her Royal Highness, 
that, having some years ago declared he never would 
receive any letter or paper from the Princess, his Royal 
Highness intended to adhere to that determination ; 
and so ended all the hopes and fears her packet bad 
created. It seems to me that the Prince does not mean 
violently to attack her, for here a fair opportunity 
presented itself, and was not seized upon ; but that be 
intends to let the Princess be forgotten, and to lay her 
by upon the shelf of oblivion. I fear parliament will 
do much the same. She, however, does not anticipate 
this. Princes have little idea, and can have little, of 
the very small importance of their interests and petty 
intrigues, out of the immediate circle of their influence ; 
in England, especially, where even the reigning monarch 
is merely a chief magistrate, under the authority of 
laws which he cannot overpass. 

Whenever there was a storm brewing, or actually 
raging, then the pOOT Princess was comparatively happy ; 
like all rsstless spirits, she hoped that, as " it is an ill 



wind whidi blows nobody good," sbe might be the person 
who would derive benefit from the tempest. — But when- 
ever there came a calm, then sbe had nothing to do ; 
and, aiter being accustomed to live in a state of excite- 
ment — being now let down to the quietude of common 
life — she suffered the depression a man feels who is 
recovering from intoxication. 

After receiving this answer, her Royal Highness was 
in very low spirits for a short time. But no one feeling 
lasts long ; and, to do her justice, she has an indigenous 
comage and cheerfulness of disposition, which no pro- 
vocations or vexations can wholly subdue. Had this 
princess been otherwise nurtm'ed and brought up — ^had 
she, when first she came to this country, found a husband 
at once strict and fond, how difierent a person she 
might have been I Her good qualities fostered, her evil 
ones restrained — her mind softaaed by cultivation, her 
manners r^^ulated by decorum — ^what might she not 
have been ? But she came from a court sufficiently base 
in its principles, to another, where the unfortunate state 
of the best of monarcbs occupied all the thoughts and 
time of his devoted consort, and the royal family, and 
left her an unprotected prey to the person who was the 
mistress of her husband ! — To those who knew the 
Princess in the first dajrs of her arrival in Britain, and 
the set by which she was surrounded, it must ever be 
apparent, that all her subsequent faults and follies 
admitted of great ext^iuarion. 

Saturday, tUh. — ^The Princess told me a strange 
dicumstance, which has lately come to her knowledge, 

namely, that the editor of the , a Scotchman, whose 

name she forgot, tcid Lord Perceval, that when the 
paragraph announcing the publication of the letters 
came out. Mr. Uacmahon went to the editor of the 
and, giving him a scurrilous piece c^ abuse about 



the Princess, desdred him to put it in- his^paper. The 
fanner refused, saying it was actionaUe ; and then 
Mr. MacmahoQ offered any sum to the man, to l^be 
him, which he equally spumed and rejected. What 
meanness I How these histories make one feel the 
littleness of human beings \ 

1 walked to Lee. The day was fine, and I had not 
felt the fresh air blow on me so long, that it seemed 
redolent of life, and health, and peace, if not of joy and 
youth. There are past da)rs that we mark in the calendar 
of oar thoughts, 1^ the strong sensations we have felt ; 
while others, that have be^, perhaps, replete with 
incident — that, in the cwnmon opinion, ought to have 
been more interesting — ^have never (mce returned to oar 
thoughts. Among the former of these days was one, a 
year ago, when, I had taken the same walk to Lee, and 
when the same spirit moved within me, to see and feel — 
a joy I could not UU. This is a doubling of existence ; it 
is a foretaste of the pure pleasares which will be for us 
in an hereafter. The very nature of such sensations is an 
impulse of " praise — it is a joy that cometh from above." 

Hr. L(- ] walked home with me : he is one of those 

beings whom we trust upon credit, and to whom we are 
assured we are agreeable, by those indefinable marks 
of courtesy and kindness which axe, after all, the surest 
proofe of genuine good will — at least, at the moment. 

He talked to me of ; praised, and praised in a way 

to please. He laid the unction of flattery to my soul. 

I denied the charge of being but I fear I did not do 

so to the purpose. — I never was made for any ctmoeal- 
ment ; partly, through weakness, partly, through the 
sincerity of my nature. What I love, I like to talk of, 
and I should like those I love to talk of me. 

Sunday, iph. — ^Lady De Clifford came^and told the 
Princess all the story of the Reyent's scolding Princess 



Charlotte over again, and repeated what he had said 
in respect to her never having an establishment till she 
married. He had also, she said, called her a fool, and 
used other vicrfent language. The Chancellor * told the 
Princess Charlotte, that if she had been his daughter, 
and had written him such a letter, he would have locked 
her up till she came to her senses. " Rather violent 
language," said Lady 1^ Clifford, " for a coal-heaver's 
son to the future queen of England." Of course, there 
were many epithets bestowed upon the Duchess of 
Leeds, such as "weak woman," and "a pinchbeck 
duchess," fix., &c. Old Lady De Clifiord was very 
furious, and the Princess del^hted at her for so being ; 
but she observed to me after she was gone, that in her 
l^ace she never would have taken the salary. I agreed. 
*' Besides," said the Princess, " the nation would have 
done something for her, and it would have been in a 
more honourable way." It is supposed by *A»s party, 
that the Duchess of Leeds has been placed by the recom- 
mendation of Mrs. Nugent, through the Duke of Qlarence]. 
Princess M[ary], it is said, tells every thing to the Prince 
Regent, and Ihincess S[ophia] is the one that does 
exactly what Princess Charlotte chooses. The Prince 
had written a very cold letter to Lady De Clifford, who 
had also written one, as cold in reply. 

This evening, there came a letter from Mr. Brougham, 
desiring her Itoyal Highness to send her letter again to 
the Chancellor and Lord Liverpool, and command them, 
as Lord Keeper, Sec., to lay her petition before the Prince. 
It seems they are by law obliged to do this. The Princess 
has done so, accordingly, and wrote in her own name. 
Lord Liverpool's answer was, that he would go to the 
Chancellor with her Royal Highness's letter as she 
desired.— What will be the result ? I am anxious to know. 

* Lord Eldon. Sm alio the account of the tcene in Lord Albemule'i 
" Fifty Yean of My Life," pp. tt7->. 



Tuesday, 19M. — Campbell, the poet, came to see me. 
His conversation always awakens thought and feeling ; 
every thing that is his own, is el^ant and enthusiastic. 
He understand not the Princess any more than if he 
were a native of some unknown land, and I doubt whether 
he would, even were I to sit down and spell her abcd 
to him, which is impossible. 

Another letter came to Her Royal Highness from Mr. 
Brougham, which was only a repetition of that she 
received from him the day before : — but she made one 
of her ladies answer it, standing by, and dictating a 
thousand trivial circumstances, without order or arrange- 
ment, and sometimes so confusedly, that Lady [ "] 

scarcely knew whether the letter was intelligible or not. 
Campbdl and mjrself talked apart, when we could. 

Wednesday, aoth. — ^The Princess received a letter from 
Lord Liverpool, saying the Lord Chancellor and himself 
had never refused to be the channel of communication 
for any thing the Princess might wish to have presented 
to the Regent's ear ; but that it rested with his Royal 
Highness in what mode he would receive such a com- 
munication : and that his Royal Highness still adhered 
to his determination of not receiving any letter what- 
ever from the Princess of Wales. — Accordingly, her letter 
was returned. 

In answer to this, the Princess commanded the lady- 
in-waiting to write as follows : — " Lady [ ] is com- 
manded by her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales, 
to desire Lord liverpool and the Lord Chancellor will 
read hn Royal Highness's letter to the Prince Regent 
without delay, since his Royzd Highness adheres to his 
determination of not receiving any direct communication 

from the Princess of Wales." Lady [ ] told me, she 

always r^retted when she had to write such letters as 



these in her name ; but royal servants ought to be 
considered as mere automatons. 

The Princess expected Mr. Brougham to-day, but he 
did not come. In the evening, amongst other topics 

of conversation, she said to me, " oh, my dear [ '\, if 

you were to see all the curious pof&s I have I — I have 
a correspondence that passed between Bonaparte and 
Prince Louis Ferdinand, before the first was Emperor. 
It would make the world stare ; and, if it had not been 

for that , the King of Prussia, Prince Louis would 

now have been king of France. The fact was. Prince 
Louis was the cleverest and the first man in the world ; 
and Bonaparte, at that time, did not want to be Emperor 
— he only wanted to choose a proper king. Well, the 
King of Prussia, from his foolish notions about the 
Bourbons, seized up<m and locked up Prince Louis. 
C^, my dear, how different would have been my fate, 
and that of all Europe, if this had not been the case 1 " 
How far the above is true. Heaven knows ; but it is 

Thursday, zist. — Mr. Brougham arrived : his manner 
seems to awe the Princess ; and it is lucky, I think, 
from all the little circumstances, known only to myself 
and one other person, that he never meant U> dash in so 
far as he has been obliged to do in this business. He 
only intended, I believe, to place the ladder against the 
wall, on which to mount when it was safely held ; but 
not to find himself, as he does now, half way up wiaie 
it is tottering ; — to make her a tool of his party — yes, 
and not to act dishonouraUy either — ^but c^tainly not 
to run any risks for her sake. Unbatppy kings, queens, 
princes, and princesses, ye are seldom served with any 
btttter feeling than this. 

He told the Princesi, that he and Mr. Whitbread 
both agreed in thinking that it was a most fortmiatc 



circumstance for her that the Regent had refused to 
read or receive her letter ; and that it must go, failing 
all other ways, in the shape of a petition to him — 
last of all as a petition to Parhament. " But they 
are frightened to death," said Ms. Brougham, "I 
Imow ; for Lord Moira has been sent to Whitbread 
to tell him that the Regent, being afraid he may have 
been led info error respecting the Princess, wished to 
submit some papers to him." This message by the bye 
came from Sheridan, who came from Lord Moira. Mr. 
Whitbread said he could not then stay in town to read 
papers, but that he should retuxn in a few weeks, and 
that if they thought it worth their while they might 
then give hun the -papers, but he was sure they contained 
nothing but what be knew already. — Sheridan began 
explaining, and in fact, Mr. Brougham said, the papers 
1^ his account were merely those which the Princess 
has in her ppssession. — Another circumstance Is, that 
Mr. Conant, ^e poKce magistrate, went to Messrs. Long- 
man and Rees, and asked what they meant by the 
paragraph they had put in the newspapers, concerning 
a publkation of letters. Messrs. Longman and Rees 
rephed, that they meant ^rtiat the paragraph specified. — 
Upon which Mr. Conant threatened them with the law, 
and foretold their ruin, and the Lord knows what. But 
Messrs. Longman and Rees ref^ed, they should take 
care not to publish any thing actionable ; and, as for 
the rest, they should foUow their trade. 

Mr. Brou^iam then went over the old ground, but said 
positively that till the Princess Charlotte was one and 
twenty, the I^ince might even lock her up, if he chose, 
and had absolute power over her. How far the country 
would aUow of such treatment, is another question. / 
thought to myself, as to that, tt is the interest of all thoie 
in power to vest as much as they can in the Regent's 
hands, and, consequently, I have but a hopdess kind 



' <^ view of the whole of this business. In as far as the 
Princess of Wales is concerned, they will not dare to do 
any thing outrageous against her, but they will keep the 
extinguisher over her. Mr, Brougham staid a couple of 
hours, and went away. The Princess is never satisfied, till 
she has drained a subject dry ; so she was very angry at his 
going so soon ; — but I perceive he keeps her in OTder — how 
fortunate I 

Extract from a Letter. 

Friday. January aind, 1813. 

I am indeed aiudoas on the subject of this unfortunate 
business, and hope that the Princess will be well advised, 
before things are brought to extremity. Ministers, it is dear, 
will not bring forward any thing that is not agreeable to the 
Prince Regent, and, if opposition should attempt it at this 
time, it would be easy to give the «4kole the turn of a party 
question. This I have little doubt but that the ministry 
mmld do, and wonld succeed in, and then things would remain 
where they are, with the additional stigma of having been 
attempted to be redressed in vain. I am not saying what 
ought to be, but what I fear mmid be. Indeed, I have lived 
longrenoogh in the world to have learnt, that how others will 
consider an object, is the question in all public ntatteis where 
their concurrence is required, not how we ourselves see it, 
however truly. Tell me, if you know, what is to be done 
about the drawing-room on the 4th, — and what the paragraph 
means, saying that the Princess Charlotte is to be presented 
by the Pnncess of Wales. I think she can be presented by 
no other person than her mother, and I suppose that therefore 
she will not, this time, be presented at all :— am I right ? It 
is the general voice that ibs Princess Charlotte feels all the 
duty and affection that she ought to feel towards her mother ; 
also, that she declared unless she is presented to the Queen 
1^ her mother, she will not be presented at all. 

Saturday, 23fi.— Yesterday, I went to see [ — —J ; alt 
was well, even to her animals. What cause of thank- 
fulness I — The vacuum in my existence, which one only 
cireumstance can fill, still exists, and a low languor 



enfeebles body and mind. — But I hope — nay, I am not 
ungratefol for the blessings given. — The Princess received 
a letter of twenty-eight pages, from the Princess Charlotte, 
which looked like the writing of a chambermaid, and 
appeared to me wholly illegible ; but she said she could 
decipher it, and so she did in regard to miderstanding 
the general meaning, but I defy her powers or her patience 
to have made out Uteraily, what those twenty-eight 
pages contained. The whole of the matter was, that 
Princess Charlotte was to remain in town, from Saturday 
to Wednesday ; from which the Princess of Wales con- 
cluded, that she is to go to the Opera to-night, and 
intends, if she does, to go also. There came likewise 
accounts of Miss Knight's having accepted the place 
of sub^ovemess, which the royal mother and daughter 
are very glad of. The same post that brought all this 
intelligence, brought a letter also from Lady Oxford, 
and the Princess decided upon setting off immediately 
to go to Mortimer House. Accordingly, though her 
Royal Highness had not been out for a fortnight, off 
she went, and her lady-in-waiting told me that when 
they arrived they foimd, as the Princess predicted, no 
one, except Lord Byron. *Tis sickening to hear of and 
see the ways of the world. The Princess immediately 
retired with Lord B3n'on and Lady Oxford, and her lady 
staid with Lady Jane. The latter is a good musician, 

but sings dreadfully out of Ume. Lady [ ] told me 

that she thought Lord Byron was exceedingly wearied, 
and endeavoured to listen to the music, and escape 

from her Royal Highness and Lady [ ] ; but the 

former would not allow him to do so, and he was 
desired to " come and sit " ; and, upon the whole, the 
Princess was not pleased with her visit. 

Sunday, 24/A. — Yesterday, the Princess went to meet 
the Princess Charlotte at Kensington. Lady [ ] told 


m6 the diary of a LADY-IN-WAITING 

me that when the latter arrived she rushed up to her 
mother, and said, "for God's sake, he civil to her — " 
meaning the Duchess of Leeds, who followed her. Lady 

[ ■] said she felt sorry for the latter, but when the 

Princess of Wales talted to her, she soon became so free 
and easy that one could not have any fveUng about her 
feelings. Princess Charlotte, I was told, was looking 
handsome, very f^e, but her head more becomingly 
dressed, that is to say, lees dressed than uaual. Her 
figure is of that full roimd shape which is now in its 
prime ; but she dia&;ures herself by wearing her boddice 
so short, that she hterally has no waist. Her feet are 
very pretty, and so are her hands and arms, and her ear 
and the shape of her head. Her countenance is ex- 
pressive, ^en she allows her passions to play upon it, 
and I never saw any face with so little shade express so 

many powerful and varied emotions. Lady [ ^J told 

me that the Princess Charlotte talked to her about her 
situation, and said, in a very quiet, but determined way, 
she would not bear it, and that as soon as Parliament met, 
she intended to come to Warwick House, and remain 
there ; that she was also determined not to consider the 
Duchess of I^eeds as her goverMss, but only as her first 
tody. She made many observations on other persons 
and subjects, and appears to be very quick, very pene- 
trating, but Imperious, and wilful. There is a tone ctf 
romance, too, in her character, which will only serve to 
mislead her. 

She told her mother, that there had been a great battle 
at Windsor, between the Queen and the Prince ; the 
former refusing to give up Miss Knight from her own 
person, to attend on Princess Charlotte as sub-govemess ; 
but the Prince Regent had gone to Windsor himself and 
insisted on her doing so, and the " Old Beguin " * was 

* Id 17S8, G«org« Selwyo writes of the Qaeen : " Old B«gaia, u 
tber ull her, is more absnrd, I hear, than ever." 



forced to submit, but has been ill ever since ; and Sir 

Henry Kalford declared it was a compete breaking tip 
of her constitution, — (to the great delist of the two 
Princesses,* who were talking about th^ affair.) Miss 
Knight was the very pwson thty wished to have : they 
think they can do as they like with her. It had been 
ordered that the Princess Charlotte should not see her 
mother alone for a single moment ; but the latter went 
into her room, stuffed a pair of large shoes fall of papers, 
and, having given them to her daughter, she went home. 

Lady [ ] told me every thing was written down, and 

sent to Mr. Brougham next day. 

There are in the newspapers, daily, long histories 
written, with intention to inflame the public with an 
idea of the Princess's wrongs, and, above all, to make it 
clear that Princess Charlotte could reign to-morrow, if 
any circumstance was to unfit her father for so doing. 
This is the great point with the party out of office, and 
which the men of sunbition want to establish, in order to 
raise themselves. True patriotism, ture knight-errantry, 
where is it ? There are few minds good enough, great 
enough, to entertain either of these sentiments. As to 
Brougham, I am more and more convinced that he never 
meant to have risked what he has done. He is a man of 
inordinate ambition, and I fear of Uttle heart : indeed, 
in most cases, the former generally usurps every affection. 

Tuesday, 26tk. — I saw Bessie R£awdo^ and her mother. 
The first is a very beautiful and superior creature ; the 
latter lives but in her daughter,*^ and would be a cypher 
without her. 

* Tbackeny qaotes this paasa^ thlttking tt mMns the Qneen'a 
dkVffatcrs, whereas it obviously refers to the Phnccsi of WalM and 
Princess Charlotte. 

f Harriet. L«dy Granville vritcs in 1817, after Misi Rawdon't 
marriage : " Lady WiUiani Rassell is very pretty, very pleasing ; 
Lord William looks qaiet and pleased, but « Uttle small between Us 



Thursday, 27th.— I dined at Blackheath. Old [Sapio] 
was there, and the Princess sang, or rather squalled. Of 
coozse, those who live much with her Roj^l Highness 
most see how matters go on. It is a great pity she should 
he surrounded by such society ; it does her infinite harm. 

Saturday. — I accompanied the Princess to the British 
Institution. There were not many fine pictures. One 
subject, taken from Scripture, that has been bought by 
Lord Stafford for eight hundred guineas, the painter's 
name, Edward Bird, the subject the death of Eli, pleased 
me most ; and I liked some of Barker's, particularly a 
woman perishing in the snow, with her baby ; and Tam 
O'Shanter, the horse very good, by Cooper. 

The letter has been read to the Prince Regent. His 
Royal Highness is not pleased to give any answer what- 
ever, says my Lord Liverpool. What is to be done now ? 

Brougham seems to be at a stand still. The R[ > tell 

me that what the Prince is determined to try for, is a 
divorce. I hardly think that be will though. — Princess 
Charlotte would be furious, for fear of his marrying 
again and having a son, and putting her off the throne. 
The game of " change seats, the King's coming," is what 
she would not at all ^oy ; therefore, she would naturally 
make a strong party to prevent this ; and many persons 
dissatisfied with the Prince would side with her — not 
from any other motive but self-love — 'tis, alas 1 the most 
powerful one with the generality of mankind. Besides, 
he dare not — the clean hands are wanting 

Exkad from a LetUr. 

Date, 6th Ftbruary, 1813. 
I went last night to Carlton House : all very magnificent, 
but such a lack of young dancing men, and indeed women, 

Bccompli*b«d bride and exigtcmU mother-in-Uw, who talks all the Umo 
a« if Lady William was dead : — ' From the time I lost my pool Beoay.' 
It is clear Lord William will not lova lira. Rawdon." 



that I qoite pitied the Princess Charlotte for the dulness of 
the ball — sudi it appeared to me — what must it not have 
appeared to youth — and iiUeiiigeni youth ? I think her 
quite charming, and in all respects as to appearance, far 
exceeding whatever I had heard of her. I much regretted 
not having it in my power in any way to make myself known 
to her ; for posstUy I should have received a gracious word 
or so. But I was very near her often, and coidd, therefore, 
make all my observations. Her manner seems open, frank 
and intelligent ; she will captivate many a heart, or I am 
much mistaken. I think her like both the Prince R^nt 
and the Princess. She danced with the Duke of Cparence], 
that is, began the ball with him — but of that you will hear 
more than I can tell you. Lord Holland was there at a very 
short notice, as he told me, also the Duke of Bedford, Lord 
Tavistock, (at least I saw Lady,) L.ord Cowper, Lord Jersey ; 
I think not many more opposition lords. 

Thursday, iilh of February. — ^The circle of the Princess's 
acquaintance and attendants grows smaller every day, 
and I fear wiU at length degenerate wholly into low 
company. The Oxford and Biirdett party prevaiL 

I2th of February, 1813. — To-day, the Princess received 
the following letter from Lord Liverpool : 

Lord Liverpool has the honour to inform her Royal High- 
ness that in consequence of the publication in the Morning 
Chronicle of the loth instant, of a letter addressed by her 
Royal Highness the Princess of Wales to the Prince Regent, 
his Royal Highness thinks fit, by the advice of his confidential 
servants, to signify his command that the intended visit of 
the Princess Charlotte to her Royal Highness the Princess 
of Wales on the following day, shall not take place. 

Lwd Liverpool is not enabled to make any further com- 
munication to her Royal Highness, on the subject of her 
Royal Uighness's note. 

Dated, FiFK Housf. iuA February, 1S13. 

To which the Princess seat the following reply : 



Lady A[ime] H[ainilton] is commanded by her Royal High- 
ness the F^incess of Wales, to represent to Lord Liverpool that 
the insidious insinuation respecting the publication of the letter 
addressed by the Princess of Wales to the Prince Regent on the 
I2th of January, conveyed in his lordship's reply to her Royal 
Highness, is as void of foundation, and as false, as all the 
former accusations of the tradueers of her Royal Highness's 
honour, in the year 1806. 

Lady A[nne] is further commanded to say, that dignified 
silence would have been the line of conduct the Princess would 
have pursued upon such insinuation, (more than unbecoming 
Lord Liverpool,) did not the effects arising from it operate to 
deprive her Royal Highness of the only real happiness she 
can possess in this world — that of seeing her only child ; and 
the confidential servants of the Prince Regent ought to feel 
ashamed of their conduct towards the Pnncess in advising 
his Royal Highness the Prince Regent upon an unauthorized 
and unfounded supposition, to prevent mother and daughter 
from meeting ; a prohibition, as positively against the law of 
nature, as against the law of the land. 

Lady A[nne] is further commanded to desire Lord Liverpool 
to lay this paper before the Prince Regent, that his Royal 
Highness may be aware into what err<H' his confidential 
servants are leading him, and will involve him, by counselling 
and signifying such a command. 

Dated MoNTAGUB House, ijM FA-, 1S13. 

It is scarcely possible to read this composition without 
laughing. There can be no doubt of the authors, and it 
certainly does not do much credit to their literary or 
rational powers. One might have supposed that all 
resentment must have given way, on perusal, to the more 
pleasurable sensation of laughter. How that was, cannot 
be known, as no one was present when Lord Liverpool 
received it, or made known its contents to the Prince 
R^ent, (if he ever did so.) To be serious, how lamentable 
that the Princess should have been betrayed by passion 
to trust herself or her scribes to commit such egregious 
folly, and to act in matters of such importance without 



consulting those persons in whom she partially placed 
confidence. It was this partial and not entire conMence 
on her part which so often brought them, as well as herself, 
into great difficiJties, and with justice disgusted those 
whose interest it was to serve her. There had evidently 
been some hocus pocus about the premature pubhcation 
of the above letter in the Morning Chronicle ; and the 
whole business had been ill conducted. 

Copy of her Royal Highmss's Letter. 

The Princess of Wales to His Royal Highness 
THE Prince Regent. 

i4lh of January, 1813. 

Sir, — It is with great reluctance that I presume to obtrude 
myself upon your Royal Highness, and to solicit your atten- 
tion to matters which may, at first, appear rather of a per- 
sonal than a public nature. If I could think them so — if 
they related merely to myself — I should abstain from a 
proceeding which might give uneasiness, or interrupt the 
more we^hty occupations of your Royal Highness's time ; 
I should continue in silence and retirement to lead the life 
^rtiich has been prescribed to me, and console myself for the 
loss of that society and those domestic comforts to which I 
have been so long a stranger, by the reflection that it has 
been deemed proper I should be atBicted, without any fault 
of my own, and that your Royal Highness knows it. 

But, Sir, there are considerations of a higher nature than 
any regard to my own happiness, which render this address 
a duty both to myself and my daughter ; may I venture to 
say, a duty also to my husband, and the people committed 
to his care ? There is a point beyond which a guiltless 
woman cannot with safety carry her forbearance ; if her 
honour is invaded, the defence of her reputation is no longer 
a matto' of choice ; and it signifies not whether the attack 
be made openly, manfully and directly, or by secret insinua- 
tions, and by holding such conduct towards her as coun- 
tenances all tiie suspicions that malice can suggest. If these 
ought to be the fedings of every woman in England who is 
conscious she deserves no reproach, your Rojral Highness has 



too sound judgment, and too nice a sense of honour, not to 
perceive how much more justly they belong to the mother 
of your daughter — the mother of her who is destined, I trust 
at a very distant period, to reign over the British empire. 

It may be known to your Royal Highness, that during 
the continuance of the restrictions upon your royal authority, 
I still was indined to delay taking this step, in the hope that 
I might owe the redress I sought to your gracious and un- 
solicited condescension. I have waited, in the fond indul- 
gence of this expectation, until, to my inexpressible mortifi- 
cation, I find, that my unwillingness to complain has only 
produced fresh grounds of complaint, and I am at lengUi 
compelled either to abandon all regard for the two dearest 
objects which I possess on earth, — mine own honour and 
my beloved child — or to throw myself at the feet of your 
Royal Highness, the natural protector of both. 

I presume. Sir, to represent to your Royal Highness, that 
the separation, which every succeeding month is making 
wider, of the mother and the daughter, is equally injurious 
to my character and to her education. I say nothing of the 
deep wounds which so cruel an arrangement inficts upon 
my feelings ; although I would fain hope that few persons 
wUl be found of a disposition to think lightly of these. To 
see myself cut ofE from one of the very few domestic enjoy- 
ments left me — certainly the only one upon which I set any 
value — the society of my child, involves me in such misery, 
as I well know your Royal Highness never could inSict upon 
me, if you were aware of its bitterness. Our intercourse 
has been gradually diminished ; — a single interview, weekly, 
seemed sufficiently hard allowance for a mother's afiections ; 
— that, however, was reduced to our meeting once a fortnight, 
and I now learn that even this most rigorous interdiction is 
to be still more rigidly enforced. But while I do not venture 
to intrude my feeluigs as a mother upon your Royal Highness's 
notice, I must be allowed to say, that in the eyes of an ob- 
serving and jealous world, this separation of a daughter from 
her mother will only admit of one construction — a construc- 
tion fatal to the mother's reputation. Your Royal Highness 
will also pardon me for adding, that there is no less inconsis- 
tency than injustice in this treatment. He who dares advise 
your Royal Highness to overlook the evidence of my inno- 



cence, and disregard the sentence of complete acquittal which 
it produced, or is wicked and false enough still to whisper 
snspicions in your ear, betrays his duty to you. Sir, to your 
daughter, and to your people, if he couns^ you to peimit 
a day to pass without a further investigation of my conduct. 
I know that no such calumniator will venture to recommend 
a measure which must speedily end in his utter confusion. 
Then, let me implore you to reflect on the situation in which 
I am placed, without the shadow of a charge against me ; 
without even an accuser ; after an inquiry that led to my 
ample vindication, yet treated as if I were still more culpable 
than the perjuries of my suborned traducers represented 
me, holding me up to the world as a mother who may not 
enjoy the society of her only child. 

The feeUngs, Sir, which are natural to my unexampled 
situation, might justify me in the gracious judgment of your 
Royal Highness, had I no other motives for addressing you 
but such as relate to myself. The serious, and soon it may 
be, the irreparable injury which my daughter sustains from 
the plan at present pursued, has done more in overcoming 
my reluctance to intrude upon your Royal Highness than 
any sufferings of my own could accomplish. And if for her 
sake I presume to call away your Royal Highness from the 
other cares of your exalted station, I feel confident I am not 
claiming this for a matter of inferior importance, either to 
yourself or your people. 

The powers with which the constitution of these realms 
vests your Royal Highness in the r^ulation of the royal 
family, I know, because I am so advised, are ample and 
unquestionable. My appeal. Sir, is made to your exceUent 
sense and liberality of mind in the exercise of those powers ; 
and I willingly hope, that your own parental feelings will 
lead you to excuse the anxiety of mine, for impelling me to 
represent the unliappy consequences which the present system 
must entail upon our beloved child. 

Is it possible, Sir, that any one can have attempted to 
persuade your Royal Highness that her character will not 
be injured by the perpetual violence offered to her strongest 
affections — tiie studied care taken to estrange her from my 
society, and even to interrupt all communication between us ? 
That her love for me, with whom, by his Majesty's wise and 



gracious arrangements, she passed the years of her infancy 
and childhood, never can be extinguished, I well know, and 
the knowledge of it fonns the greatest blessing of my existence. 
But, let rae implore your Royal Highness to reflect how 
inevitably all attempts to abate this attachment by forcibly 
separating us, if they succeed, must injure my child's 
principles — if they fail, must destroy her happiness. 

The plan of excluding my daughter from all intercourse 
with the world appears, to my humble judgment, pecuharly 
unfortunate. She who is destined to be the sovereign of 
this great country, enjoys none of those advantages of society, 
which are deemed necessary for imparting a knowledge of 
mankind to persons who have infinitely less occasion to learn 
that important lesson ; and, it may so happen, by a chance 
which I trust is very remote, that she should be called upon 
to exercise the powers of the crown, with an experience of the 
world more confined than that of the most private individual. 
To the extraordinary talents with which she is blessed, and 
which accompany a disposition as singularly amiable, frank, 
and decided, I willingly trust much ; but beyond a certain 
point, the greatest natural endowments cannot struggle against 
the disadvantages of circumstances and situation. 

It is my earnest prayer, for her own sake as well as for her 
country's that your Royal Highness may be induced to 
pause before this point be reached. 

Those who have advised you. Sir, to delay so long the 
period of my daughter's commencing her intercouise with 
the world, and, for that purpose, to make Windsor her resi- 
dence, appear not to have regarded the interruptions to her 
education which this arrangement occasions, both by the 
impossibility of obtaining proper teachers, and the time 
unavoidably consumed in the frequent journeys to town 
which she must make, unless she is to be secluded from all 
intercourse, even with your Royal Highness and the rest of 
the royal family. To the same unfortunate counsel I ascribe 
a circumstance, in every way so distressing, both to my 
parental and religious feelings, that my dau^ter has never 
yet enjoyed the benefit of confirmation, although above a 
year older than the age at which all the other branches of 
the royal family have partaken of that solemnity. May I 
earnestly conjure you. Sir, to hear my entreaties upon this 



serioos matter, even if you should listen to other advisers on 
things of less near concernment to the welfare of our child. 

The pain with which I have at length formed the resolution 
of addressing myself to your Royal Highness is such, as I 
should in vain attempt to express. If I could adequately 
describe it, you might be enabled. Sir, to estimate the strength 
of the motives which have made me submit to it ; they are 
the most powerful feelings of afiection ; and the deepest 
impressions of duty towards your Royal Highness, my beloved 
chUd, and the country, which I devoutly hope she may be 
presoved to govern, and to shew, by a new example, the 
Uberal afiection of a true and generous people to a virtuous 
and constitutional monarch. 

I am, Sir, with profound respect. 

And an attachment which nothing can alter. 
Your Royal Highness's 
Most devoted and most affectionate 

Consort, Cousin, and Subject. 
Caroline Louisa. 

MoNTACUB House, 14th January, 1813. 

This is a letter in masquerade, forced and unnatural. 
It is difficult to say who was its author. It bears the 
marks of being the composition of more than one writer. 
It would be convincing, were it sincere, but it is sneering 
and insincere. On a cursory reading, it appears dignified 
and temperate, but there is an under current in every 
sentence which might be construed into a totally different 
meaning from that which it conveys on its surface. 
Upon the whole, it appears to me to have been more likely 
to give offence and irritation, than to obtain any favour 
by conciliation and entreaty. The latter part, most 
especially, is Jesuitical and dictatorial : it is one thing to 
ask a favour, another to demand a right ; it is one thing 
to set forth a moral right, another a legal claim ; it is 
one thing to sue as a wife, another to command as a queen. 
How difficult to join these difierent claims and make 
them coalesce 1 

But in this instance, as in most otbera, the happiness 



and welfare of the individual were lost sight of, and she 
was the tool of a party. Yet it is just possible, that 
whoever drew up this document (destined hereafter to be 
recorded in the page of history) had a feeling of interest 
and compassion for the unhappy woman whose cause it 
professed to espouse, — only that feeling was subservient 
to their own. But there is seldom any unmixed motive 
to instigate human actions ; — the bad or the good may 
predominate, but they are both there, and are generally 
so commixed, that, till time has sifted the grain from the 
chaff, they cannot be separated. 

Tuesday. — Mr. Whitbread has made the finest speech 
that ever was heard ; most of his auditors were in tears, 
(said Mr. Bennet,) but aU agreed in their admiration of 
the manly and forcible eloquence he displayed. There 
was no division. He read a letter from the Princess of 
Wales to the Prince, written after what he termed her 
last triumph, eind written in an humble conciliatory tone, 
when the news came of another secret investigation now 
going on, and the pen fell from her hands at this intelli- 
gence. The house were all electrified, say my informants. 
Mr. Tiemey spoke, and Lord Castlereagh. Tlie latter 
floimdered deep in the mire of duplicity and meanness. 
But Mr. Canning made an elaborate speech, saying that it 
were better all this business should end for ever ; that the 
Princess was proved pure and innocent, but that if further 
private malice was at work against her, it would then be 
the duty of the house to take cognizance of the affair. 

Extract from a Letter, from The Hon. A[nna] 
S[byuour] D[aiier]. 

I consider Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales being 
sent abroad without a specific cause, as not only improbable 
but impossible, under our good laws ; but I do fear and 
believe that some machinations, in the way of trial and 





investigation, are actually going on underhand, and that 
real or [H'etended ptoois of misconduct will be brought forward 
against her. I undeistand that she professes herself secure 
in her innocence, and determined not to give way, or make 
compronuses, should they be offered. How all this will end. 
Heaven only knows. That it may never begin, I truly wish ; 
and, in any case, must pity her, and that most sincerely, 
should she be brought into trouble, for certainly she has 
been hardly used ; a^, at her first coming into this country, 
when she had a right to meet with every indulgence and 
protection, she was vilely betrayed by those about her, who, 
I am convincM, heaped lies upon lies, for the worst and 
most sordid purposes of their own. Imprudent she has been, 
no one can deny ; but Justice will find much to put in the 
opposite scale, should her case come before a tribunal. Of 
tax being turned out of Kensington (for so, as you say, it 
would be) and ordered to Hampton Court, or worse, to Holy- 
rood House, (but this latter only for hereafter,] still all is 
uncertain ; and I am sometimes inclined to hope, though I 
confess with no great reason, that this odious business will be 
put to sleep. The best thing for her, poor soul, would be the 
immediate death of our wretched King ; as the moment that 
event happens, (supposing nothing previously has taken place 
to prevent it,) she becomes queen, by the laws of the land : — 
so Perceval has positively decided ; and that would be a step 
and might make a difference in her treatment and be in her 
favour. Now, it is thought that the accusations are hurrying 
on to prevent that happening — I mean her being Queen. 

It is certainly not the factious, and the mob alone, who 
espouse the Pnncess's cause : — the sweet charities of life, 
the protection of the social rights of famiUes, are comiected 
with her wrongs ; and if she is true to her own self duties, 
there will be an overwhelming force of general opinion in 
her favour. 

The Princess is often besieged with letters, anonymouB 
and otherwise. She showed me one of the letters the other 
day, from a D.D., signed with name, date and abode. 
It is curious, but bears rather the appearance of being 
instigated by private pique, than of the spontaneous 



emanation of any genuine sentiment of good wUl. The 
letter was addressed to one of the Princess's ladies — the 
writer imknown personally to the lady. 

Madah, — Lwd Eldon and his eJder brother, Sit W. Scott's 
father, were fitters of ships in the coal trade of Newcastle. 
Honey brought them to Oxford and the law, when no great 
mauvaise honU stood in their way ; nor can it be denied 
that sufficient abilities in them authorized their introduction 
in the world by friends. Your Ladyship, of whose proper 
spirit, together with that of your Royal Mistress, I am one 
amongst myriads of humble applauders, would, as I conceive, 
not object to receive anecdotes of the origin of the afore* 
mentioned celebrated friends. In the letter of your Lady- 
ship's Royal Mistress, I noticed the word " suborn," and 
am persuaded that many lose much, (and often their lives,) 
by the perjury of others. An oath, although authorized by 
the rehgion of the Church of England, was an invention of 
the Church of Rome, to increase the power of the powerful ; 
in the Hebrew original of the Old Testament it is not to be 
found, although it is so in translations. 

Christian governments have, unfortunately for society, 
armed their members one against another with this dangerous 
instrument, an oath. With those whose belief in religion is 
small, an oath is a mere instrument against the enemies of 
the individual, or of those who can suborn him, or her ; and 
such I should esteem Bidgood, &c., to be, and would humbly 
recommend the defiance of them. Lord De Clifford as well 
as Lord Liverpool passed the University, during my twenty 
years' residence there : the Scotts are considerably my 
seniors. The Bishop of Salisbury, as superintendent of the 
education of her Royal Highness the Princess Charlotte, 
ought himself to have confirmed her at the age of fourteen. 
A note to the Bishop of London from her Royal Highness, 
requesting confirmation, preparation for which should be a 
knowledge of the Church Catechism, so as to be able to say 
it by rote, could scarcely fail of being followed by an appoint- 
ment from that prelate to attend a private confirmation in 
the Chapel Royal, when her Royal I^ghness might properly 
be accompanied by her mother. I request Lord De ClifEord, 
who formerly knew me as fellow of the college in which his 



Lordship was educated, to forward this letter to your Lady- 
ship ; and have the honour to conclude, with best wishes 
for the cause and happiness of your Ladyship's Royal Mistress 
and respect for your ladyship. 

Your Ladyship's most obedient servant, 

D. D., &c., &c., &c. 

Wednesday. — I saw the Princess yesterday ; I fear she 
has been goading the sleeping lion. However, I have 
heard, that when the Regent wanted the ministers to try 
for a divorce, they said that it was impossible, and that, 
if they attempt^ it, they must inevitably lose their 
places. This intelligence <hd not come from the Princess 
or her friends ; so that, if it is true, that sounds well for 
her cause ; but everything that is reported concerning 
her Royal Highness one day, is contradicted the next. 
Her first letter has certainly produced a disposition in her 
favour in the breasts of John and Jenny Bull in the 
country ; but here, alas, like all other things, it seems to 
be a party question — with some few exceptions, — ^for 
some fair judging spirits do exist. I wish the Letter to 
Lord Liverpool had never been sent, but that the impru- 
dence of his avowal of interference and advice on such 
an occasion, and that of the confidential ministers, had 
been left to its own punishment. It is, I think, quite 
clear that nothing criminal can be proved, or most as- 
suredly these nightly and daily councils would not have 
been able to keep their discoveries so secret, but that 
somethii^ must have transpired. As nothing comes out, 
I feel secure that there is nothing to come out. 

Extract of a Letter, 

March 3d, 1813. 

Ministers were beat last night by forty ; so far I sing 

Te Denm, but fear all will be again overset in the House 

of Lords. The letter from the Princess was, I understand, 

laid last night before the House of Commons by the Speaker, 



and, after a bttle conversation between Mr. Whitbread and 
Lord Castlereagh, the subject was dropped — I conclude to 
be resumed in future. The letter is very good, whatever 
may be the consequences : I should suppose it must be 
Brougham's, for it is a simple and impressive law statement. 
The general impression seems to be, that the Princess has 
been harshly treated ; and it must be allowed that, unpro- 
tected as she is, she had no refuge but an appeal to Parlia- 
ment ; yet, I fear no good purpose will be answered, and 
that the material point will not be gained — that of seeing her 
daughter more frequently than she has of late been allowed 
to do. 

Extract from another Letter. 

March Zth. 1813. 

Pray express my most sincere congratulations on the 
triumph, the complete triumph, the Pnncess has so justly 
obtained. What passed on Friday night in the House of 
Commons made me, I confess, feel proud of my country ; 
which has not of late been the case with me. But what gives 
me the greatest satisfaction, as far as her Royal Highness 
is concerned, is her most admirable letter to the Prince in 
answer to his. That letter does her more credit than words 
can express, and I am heartily glad that it has appeared at 
this time, as I already see the impression it makes. For the 
present, I do trust that the Princess will remain satisfied 
with the sensation excited in her favour, which is what it 
ought to be. By remaining satisfied, I do not mean that she 
is to seclude herself at Blackheath, or avoid appearing as 
usual. For my part, I think she should in all this just follow 
her own inclination ; come to Keosington, go to the theatres, 
&c., &c., as she has hitherto done, &c. 

Extract from a Letter, from the same. 

Dated March 2sth, 1813. 
I must (as I hope at least) be the first to tell you, that 
I have heard from good authority that Sir John Douglas 
is, or is immediately to be, expelled by the Freemasons of 
this country from their society. Also, that the Duke of 
Sussex has dismissed him from his household. All this 



marks the general and hoaest indigiiatioii the conduct of 
these vile sycophants excites. 

Extract from a Letter addressed to one of the 

March iHlh, 1813. 
TUougn I nave not the honour of being personally acquainted 
with your ladyship, I feel assured that the subject which 
actuates this address will form an apology for the liberty I 
take in making it, and claim your ladyship's full and free 
pardon, having felt no less an interest in it than myself. 
On an affair of so important and interesting a nature as 
that which has recently been brought into ParUament, and 
which has gained such general attention, and from its happy 
termination, such warm approbation and deUgbt, it will 
not, I trust, be deemed impertinent to make a few remarks. 
I could not, without subjecUog myself to much pain, withhold 
expressing the enthusiastic joy which the perusal of this 

day's papers has produced. Will Lady [ ] gratify the 

fedii^ of a stranger by conveying to her Royal Highness 
the Princess of Wales the warm congratulations of an affec- 
tionate heart, on the glorious victory recently obtained — 
a heart that has long been deeply wounded at the base conduct 
of the D[ouglase]s, the vilest pair that England ever knew, 
and who it is ardently hoped will now receive their just and 
highly merited punishment. Yes, revered and highly beloved 
Pnncess, the nation has long felt your wrongs and wished for 
redress ; but power and undue influence forbade it, until 
that impressive address obliged a pubhc avowal of your 
innocence. Excuse the freedom of my sentiments— my 
heart is full, and every feeling is roused. That her Royal 
Highness may long live to enjoy the society of her beloved 
daughter, beholding in her every grace and virtue which 
can adorn the throne and secure the afiections of the nation, 
is the fervent prayer of thousands. It may afford her Royal 
Highness some pleasure to be informed, that the patronage 
which she so graciously conferred on the National Benevolent 
Institution, has been highly beneficial to the charity ; a 
respectable committee has been formed, and subscriptions 
are daily increasing. Relying on your ladyship's forgiveness 
for this intrusion, I b^ leave to subscribe myself, &c. 



A Letter addressed to one of her Royal Highness's Ladies, 

March iglh, iStj. 

I do myself the honour of writing to your ladyship, to 
congratnlate you on the pleasure you must have felt on the 
res^t of the late debates in the House of Commons. I see a 
variety of persons, and observe with great satisfaction that 
there is a general sympathy with the Princess of Wales, on 
the cruel persecuttOQ she has undergone ; and the complete 
conviction of her Royal Highness's perfect innocence, Whit- 
bread has done himself great honour by his generous defence 
— be has acted nobly. I wish he had been able to crush the 
vile snake whom her Royal Highness cherished formerly, 
and who so ungratefully attempted to sting her benefactor ; — 
that wretch and her mate have, however, covered th^- 
selves with infamy. May I venture to ask the favour of a 
few hnes from your ladyship, to inform me how her Royal 
Highness endures these, which I trust will be the last efforts 
of calumny. It is not from curiosity that I take ttus Uberty, 
but from the sincere interest wMch I feel in her Royal 
Highness's welfare. 

I have the honour to be. Madam, 

Your Ladyship's most obedient, &c., &c. 

These letters have been taken promiscuously from the 
upper and middling classes, and from a large collection 
on the same subject, in order to give an impartial idea 
of the feeling which generally prevailed at that time, 
respecting the wrongs of the Princess of Wales. 

It may be that this was the proudest moment of the 
Princess's troubled life ; afterwards, there was more 
pomp and greater public demonstration of feeling for her, 
but then it was a storm of passion and of party, not the 
sober current of honest feelings, which moved justice to 
stemd forth and defend her. 

May lOth, 1813.* — After all these triumphs, we are only 
making a charivari upon an old tin tea-kettle of a barpsi- 

* The Ehichess of Bninsirick, mother of the Princess of Wales, died 
at her lodgings in Hanover Square. March 33, 1S13. The Diary waa 
perhaps discontinued during her daughter's deep mourning. 



chord. Full of my own feelings and my own regrets, I 
yet could enter into those of hers, if there was unifonn 
greatness, unifonn tenderness, unifonn anything ; but 
courtly ways are not my ways, and the unfortunate 
Princess is so inconsistent, so reckless of propriety, so 
childishly bent on mere amusement, that I foresee her 
enemies must and will get the upper hand ! 

Read Madame de Stag! sur les Passions. What a 
wonderful mind is hers I what an insight she has into the 
recesses of human feeling 1 How many secret springs 
does she unlock ; and how much the woman — the tender, 
the kind, the impassioned woman — ^betrays herself even 
in all the philosophy of her writings I Yet what do the 
other sex think of a female authoress ? With one or 
two very sober, but very great exceptions, it is true, that 
where science rather than imagination or thought is dis- 
played, women are sneered at who venture on the public 
arena of hterature ; and there is not a man, perhaps, 
existing, who does not think that those women are wisest 
and happiest who do not attempt that bold and dangerous 
adventure, authorship. I remember once a great friend 
of mine defended herself, (she being guilty of the fact,) 
by asking me what stimulus to life remained when youth 
and outward charms were gone, but when the affections 
and the imagination were as vivid as ever, and nothing 
was left to supply the place of that life of life to which, 
when once accustomed, it was as impossible to hve with- 
out it, as to live without breathing ? *' Men," she said, 
" have the camp, the court, the senate, and the field ; 
— ^but we — we have nothing but thoi^ht and feeling left ; 
and if we are not understood, not prized by those around 
us, like 

Rosa noD colta in sua stagion, 

we scatter these thou^ts and feelings to the wind, hoping 
they may bear us back some fruitage of answering kind. 



Besides, there are many other reasons which instigate 
women to become authors. It is not, as men falsely 
accuse us, vanity, or the thirst after notoriety, which 
prompts the deed ; but it is generally one of two things — 
perhaps both tt^ether — either poverty, or the aching 
desire to be appreciated and understood, even though it 
may be by some being whom we shall never see in thia 

I was sent for this day to the palace at Kensington, to 
converse only on one topic — the disappointment the 
Princess felt at having suddenly received a message, 
informing her Lady Reid's house was not to be let — only 
sold. As this information came unexpectedly, and after 
she had concluded that every arrangement was settled, 
she supposes it is a trick proceeding from Carlton House. 
One might imagine such meannesses were beneath the 
consideration of the adverse party ; but I have known 
so many instances of similar littleness, that I should not 
be surprised if this were one. 

It seems Mr. Brougham wrote to the Princess on 
Wednesday last, stating, that he had beard it was the 
Regent's intention, the moment she got a house in town, 
to take Kensington, and all its advantages of coal and 
candle,&c.,fromher ; forwhichreason he, (Mr. Brougham,) 
conceiving this would be of great detriment to her Royal 
Hig^ess, had delayed concluding the bargain about the 
Curzon Street house ; and that when he went a few days 
after, on the Friday, to do so, he heard of the new resplu- 
tion which had been adopted by the late Lady Reid*s 
executors. What makes this the more unaccountable is, 
that it was specified in her will, that the house should 
not be sold, but let for twenty years, in order that the 
rent might accumulate for the benefit of some near rela- 
tion, and that, in consequence of the will, the executors 
must procure an act of parliament to enable them to 
break it. I was requested privately (and this was what 



I was sent for) to go secretly to another person, a man 
of business, and, if possible, on any terms whatsoever, 
secure a lease of the house. 

This underhand manner of employing another agent, 
above all of making me an instrument in the business, 
distressed me greatly ; for not only is it unadvisable to 
be insincere, and to doubt the faithfulness of any one till 
he is proved iaise, but also, on the present occasion, it 
was just possible that Mr. Brougham might, with the best 
intentions towards the Princess's interests, have purposely 
prevented her from obtaining this house. 

On the nth of May I was invited again to the palace. 
The Princess informed me that she was in great hopes 
the Regent was going to Hanover. I wondered what 
difference that could possibly make to her. She told me 
there was to be a congress held, at which all the poten- 
tates were to meet, and that Bonaparte was to join them. 

The Princess is dissatisfied with her daughter's conduct. 
She wished that the latter should have had the firmness 
to say, " I will go to no ball unless my mother is present 
at it " ; but this she does not do, and the mother of course 
is wounded, and thinks her child really does not care 
for her — which I fear is true. When this unfortunate 
Princess sees herself forsaken by every natural tie, and by 
every person of distinction once professing friendship, it is 
har(Uy to be wondered at that she should become despe- 
rate ; if she does not, she will stand recorded in history 
as the wisest and best of her sex and regal station. But 
a return is naturally made to self, and I feel myself, as her 
friend, very awkwardly situated. To-day, for instance, 

there was that foolish Lady P[ ], and her silly prot^^ — 

both very tmfit company for the Princess. Dr. B[ ] 

is clever and agreeable ; still, there ought to be another 
set of persons to form her Royal Highness*s coterie. It 
is impossible not to regret that she should thus lose her- 
self, and forfeit the vantage-ground she had so recently 



obtained. Yet, for me to appear downcast, would only 
draw an explanation which I am desirous of avoiding. 

Mr. [ ] came by appointment. He was pleased at 

being presented to her Royal Highness any how. If 
everybody were behind the scenes, they would not think 
so much of the show — but this applies to all courts 

It was one o'clock in the morning before I was dis- 

Wednesday, May i2th. — Her Royal Highness graciously 
gave me a picture of herself {as she calls it I) — which might 
just as well be the picture of the Grand Turk, and which 
I verily believe was done for her dead sister-in-law, the 
late Duchess of Brunswick — not for herself. Neverthe- 
less, by a little royal hocus pocus, it is now transmuted 
into her own portrait ! — and I received it as though I 
believed it I — so much for being a courtier I 

Friday, 14^*.— Yesterday came Sir J. Owen, with the 
Pembrokeshire address. He is a well-looking young man. 
The Princess went through the ceremony with great 
dignity, and did the whole thing very well. Why does 
she not alwaj^ so ? I was present at a visit her Royal 
Highness paid the Duchess of Leinster, when she took 
a china cup to her which her Royal Highness said had 
belonged to her mother, who was a friend of hers. What 
a magnificent old lady ! There is something in great age, 
when accompanied by sweetness and dignity, that has 
a peculiar charm for me. I feel inclined to honour such 
persons, if only for having outUved and outbraved the 
storms of life which they must have passed through. 

So some lone tower, with many a hue inlaid. 
Which Time (the cunning artist) doth enchase, 

Lifts its grey head above the forest s shade. 
And seems from age and time to steal new grace. 



Now poured in the addresses from the whole of England. 
The Princess oi^ht to have felt the double responsibUity 
which such testimonies to her honour imposed upon her. 

On Saturday, the 15th, came the Sheffield address. 
That night I dined at Blackheath, and sat up till two 
o'clock in the morning. The Princess read some of Mira- 
beau's letters on the private history of the Oaurt of Berlin ; 
but every now and then laid down the book to talk on 
the personages mentioned therein, according to her own 
version of the story. This she did very well, and was 
extremely entertaining. Mirabeau mentions a long dis- 
course he had with the Duke of Brunswick, about the 
state of Europe in that time, and adds, that it was " dia- 
mond cut diamond " between them. The Duke wanted 
to find out whether Monsieur de Breteuil was likely to 
succeed Monsieur de Vergeimes as minister at Berlin. — 
"Ah," said the Princess, closing the book, "nobody 
could love a fader better nor I loved mine ; but he was 
a man of inordinate ambition, and was not at all pleased 
with only reigning over so small a principality as Bruns- 
wick. Frederick GuiUaume was a very weak prince, 
and my fader always determined to have the whole 
management of Pnissia. The better to bring this about, 
he earnestly desired my marriage with the Prince Royal, 
but I never could consent. — Ah, I was so happy in those 
times ! " I asked if he was not a very handsome man. 
" Very Uke the bust I have of him," was her reply — and 
that bust is, I think, handsome, but she does not. She 
then added, — " Things all change since that time, — and 
here I am." — And she burst out crying. 

Sunday, 16IA. — Met her Royal Highness in town, to see 
Harconrt House, the abode which was now pointed out 
to her as eligible. She was disappointed in its dimensions 
and appearance ; — so was I. How few persons have any 



idea of real magnificence ! However, it is a proper sort 
of house for the Princess to inhabit ; and I wish upon all 
accounts that she may take it. 

Mr. Brougham came to her at last. His manner does 
not please her : they look at each other in a way that is 
very amusing to a bystander. The one thinks, " She may 
be useful to me " ; and the other, " He is useful to me at 
present." It does not require to be a conim-er to read 
their thoughts ; but they are both too cunning for each 
other. Mr. Brougham, however, gave her good advice, 
which was, to wait a few days, in which time, he thought, 
Whitbread would sound the waters, and take the bearings 
of all circumstances, so as to let her know whether or not 
she might venture to live in town without incurring the 
risk of losing Kensington. She wishes, and is advised, 
to let this place, and keep Kensington as her villa. That 
would be a very wise plan, and I hope, for her sake, she 
may do so. 

The addresses are all goii^ on notably : they come 
from every part of the country. I do hope the people 
may force the nobles into a more just conduct towards 
her ; but I look with very despairing eyes upon the state 
of the constitution of this coimtry — ^that is to say, with 
regard to the continuance of its regal power, — were it not 
that God, who sees into the hearts, and tries the reins 
of men, knows of virtues that are not seen, but which, 
to His all-seeing eye, redeem the vices that are alone 
apparent to man. 

The history of all courts, and all princes, from the time 
of Jehu unto the present day, shows them full of corrup- 
tions and vices : their very stations lead them into sin. 
Yet, when lately France tried to exist under an ideal 
form of government, greater misery ensued, and the con- 
vulsion only subsided when a more despotic power than 
any king's gradually subdued the tumult, and restored 
order by enforcing obedience. Why then should we seek 



for imaginary perfectibility in the laws of man ? it suits 
not with his imperfect essence. God sees the hearts 
of princes, and will perhaps maintain them in their place, 
in spite of all their seeming unworthiness to us. Yet 
sometimes I again think no — especially at this time in 
England. — " A house divided against itself cannot stand." 
The old King had many faults — I say had, for in fact he 
is dead, to this world, — but then he was a good and a 
pious man ; and the example of such has alwajrs been of 
powerful influence. When he dies, I fear much barm will 
ensue ; for there is a fermentation in men's minds, and 
a general system of deceit prevails, which, in regard to 
things temporal and spiritual, the coming power is 
not likely to dissipate. May God avert the evil ! It 
will be laid to the charge of one, when it does come, but 
it is the consequence of the hollowness and immorality 

Thursday, May i^h. — Monday was the Princess of 
Wales's birthday, I went to pay my respects. Her 
Royal Highness told me she had received a letter at half 
past one o'clock in the morning, from Princess Charlotte, 
to give notice that she was to arrive at Blackheath at 
two to-day, to remain for one hour only* This did not 
please ; and she was pleased to aggravate the sense of her 
displeasure, because we naturally like to make bad worse, 
when we are ill treated. Hardly had she time to receive 
the Berwick address, which was delivered by a remarkably 
gentlemanly man. Colonel Allen, (who made her a very 
pretty speech from himself afterwards,) when there 
arrived a servant from Princess Charlotte, to say she was 
ordered to be at Blackheath at half past one, and back 
at Warwick House by half past two. There was a fresh 

* Miss Knight writes in her Autobiography : " On the 17th of May 
we had visited the Princess of Wales oa her birthday, bnt were not 
allowed to dine there." 



cause of complaint. Royalties do not understand having 
hours changed by others, though they change them when 
it suits their own convenience. In general, however, they 
are punctual. 

The Duke of Kent came, and, a quarter of an hour after. 
Princess Charlotte ; the Duchess of Leeds and Miss 
Knight attending her. The meeting was as dry and as 
formal as possible. Princess Charlotte was rather gracious 
to me. Her legs and feet are very pretty : her Royal ■ 
Highness knows that they are so, and wears extremely 
short petticoats. Her face would be pretty too, if the 
outline of her cheeks was not so full. She went away 
soon after two ; and I left the Duke of Kent and the 
Princess t6te-i-tete. 

In the evening, singing and playing. — " Vivent les 
beaux arts / " 

I do not, whatever others may say, believe that the 
Prince Regent considers the addresses to the Princess 
in the serious hght they deserve to be considered ; because 
he is imder the influence of bad and weak advisers. Nor 
do I think that, in the present state of men's minds, any 
immediate advantage will be gained by them to her 
Royal Highness. But if she has the resolution to act 
with a patience scarcely to be expected, I have not the 
smallest doubt but that she will stand, in point of popu- 
larity, so high in this country, that justice wiU and must 
be done to her. 

The Princess has taken a dislike to Sir C. and Lady 
Hamilton, and was very angry at their calling on her. 
Mr. and Mrs. Lock are still in favour, and dined here. 

Friday, 2ist. — The Princess went to town, after re- 
ceiving an address from Middlesex, — a very strong one — 
the Sheriff and Mr. G. Byng, and some more people, all 
warm in her cause. They ate limcheon, and asked a 
great many questions, and seemed very much interested 



in all that concerned her. The Sheriff said, her Royal 
Highness had at least one consolation, namely, that the 
voice of the people was for her. God grant this may be 
true — and continue ! I think, if she is but tolerably 
prudent, she will get the better of her enemies. 

Saturday, May 22nd, 1813. — The Princess went to town 
to see her nephew at the Duke of Brunswick's, Chelsea. 
I was glad to hear it, for the sake of appearances, though 
I, alas ! know 'tis only appearance. 

May iist. — I have not been able for the last nine days 
to write this memorandum ; perpetual late hours fat^e 
me so much, and render me incapable of the smallest 

There has been less music lately, and the musicatUh 
have been less with her. I am afraid, or rather I ought to 
rejoice, that she has not found that society quite con- 
genial. The addresses have continued — Westminster is 
the strongest ; Berkshire, &c., &c., have followed. The 
people certainly espouse her cause. If it were really 
virtue, or extreme delicacy, that made some peoide step 
aside and decline her society, one should only grieve, 
and could not blame ; but as it is, self-interest alone 
directs their conduct, and one must despise those who 
bend the knee to those only who have the power of bene- 
fitir^ them. At the Opera the other night, every person 
stood up when her Royal Highness entered the house, 
and there was a burst of applause ; it was not so long, 
or so rapturous, as I had before witnessed — for instance, 
in Kensington Gardens ; but it was very deddetUy general 
and determined. There were two or three hisses ; I 
could not distinguish where they came from, — some 
Carlton House emissaries, of course. I saw nobody 
and nothing, being very much moved and interested in 
her reception, i heard afterwards that the Dowager 



Lady C( ]y was one of those who hissed — more shame 

to her. The Princess entered the house at eleven, and 
left it at twelve ; so that there was not much time for 
the people to weary of her ; and when she got up to go 
away, there was another applause, but she did not receive 
the applause cis if she was pleased by it — perhaps it did 
not content her ; or rather, I think, the true cause which 
prevented her from being pleased at any circumstance 
that evening was, that Mr. Whitbread had written her a 
letter, begging that she would be very careful about A«r 
dress, — in short explaining that she ought to cover her 
neck. This I knew by a roundabout way. It was a 
bold act of friendship to tell her this ; she will never 
forget it, nor ever like the person who had the courage to 
give her the advice. She has many good qualities, but 
that virtue. Christian humility, enters not within the 
porch of her thoughts or feelings ; indeed, to speak 
candidly, it is the most difficult one to attain ; and many 
who think they possess it, are as far from it as the poor 
Princess, who openly contemns it. She absolutely wept 
some tears of mortification and anger, when she received 
this letter from Mr. Whitbread. She did not know that I 
knew the contents, which I rejoiced at, because it spared 
her another act of humiliation before me. In regard to 
myself, I have laid down a rule of conduct towards her 
Royal Highness, from which I am determined not to 
depart. This determination is, never to give advice ; 
because I am quite aware that it might do me much 
harm, and would do her no good. From a legal adviser 
alone can she endure a plain tmpleasant truth, and she 
has greatness of mind enough to esteem and value the 
attachment of such a man to her cause, after the first 
sting of rebuke is passed away ; though such a man she 
never will suffer to be inunediately in attendance upon 
her person. 

Chi Thursday last, little Matt. Lewis came to pay me a 



visit. He is such a steady friend, and so amusing, that, 
in spite of all his ridicules, I like him exceedingly. 

Friday I again dined at Kensington : my cousin 

[ ] dined there also. I am always distressed when I 

meet him at the Princess's, for I know he is trying to find 
fauU all the time. I think, however, for once he did not 
succeed, and he made himself (as he ought) agreeable to 
his Royal hostess. 

Monday, June 2d. — I met the Princess at supper, at 
Lord Glenbervie's : it was a dull affair, and the more so, 
from the Princess appearing to be very low and cross. 
The party did not last long ; that was one comfort. I 
had received such a shock from the accounts of the horrid 
murder of the poor old Mr. and Mrs. Thompson Bonar, 
that I was qiiite unfit for society ; but her Roj^al Highness 
had commanded me to meet her at Lord Glenbervie's, 
so I was obliged to obey. Having seen the murdered 
persons frequently, having been in their house, and in 
their very room, I had the whole horrid scene before me 
most vividly. It is strange to remark how the most 
tmgic events pass under the observation of people who 
live in the busy world, without creating one serious 
thought ; they say, " shocking," — " horrid " ; and, as 
soon as their curiosity is amused and gratified by the 
details of the story, they turn from the tale with an 
air of levity, and soon contrive to lose all recollection of 
so unpleasant a subject. The wholesome moral to be 
deduced from serious reflection is wholly set aside. 

Mr. and Mrs. Thompson Bonar were good people : 
they had closed their evening in acts of family devotion ; 
and yet the Almighty permitted, for some wise purpose 
doubtless, but one imknown to man, that these innocent 
beings should sufier a dreadful death. What an exercise 
for faith and resignation ! How can any thing else recon- 
cile such awful dispensations with the tender mercies 



of God ? There were few whom I heard express any 
serious thoughts about this tragic story ; and some 
contrived, even upon such art event, to cut their idle 

Tuesday, June ^d. — I went to see Mis. R[awdo>» ; her 
daughter is a beautiful girl, and very agreeable. The 
Princess Charlotte has taken a great fancy for her, at 
which I am not surprised. She told me Miss E|lphin- 
stone] * is not friendly to the Princess of Wales, and I 
fear it is so ; for, since her return to the Princess Charlotte, 
the latter is not half so kind to her mother. Whoever 
busy themselves by depreciating a parent in a child's 
estimation, are much to blame ; for even where the 
parent is in fault, the child should never know it. It is 
a dangerous experiment to bid the offspring discriminate 
where its parent is in the right, and where in the wrong. 
Very hkely Miss Epphinstone], did not advise Princess 
Charlotte not to love her mother, but she probably told 
her, " She is imprudent, fooUsh ; do not be guided by 
her " ; and so lessened her respect for her mother. Miss 
Epphinstone], however, was on one occasion a useful 
friend to the Princess Charlotte, inasmuch as it was 
through her means that a silly correspondence into which 
the Princess Charlotte had entered with C[aptain] H[esse]t 

• Generally known then as " Miss Mercer," the friend ot Princess 
Charlotte, though .some years older. She was Margaret Mercer Elphin- 
stone, afterwards Baroness Keith, and married Comtc dc Flahault. 

f He was reputed to be a natural son of the Duke of York. He was 
an aide-de-camp to the Duke of Wellington, and was much esteemed 
in the world of fashion. Captain Gronow claiming him as his fidus 
Achates. His flirtation with Princess Charlotte is called by C. C 
Greville " an atrocity of the Princess of Wales." It mined him : he 
went abroad and lived at Naples until he became the lover, under 
the auspices of the Margravine of Baireuth, of the Qneen, and was 
exiled from thence. Then he lived at Turin and married. He was 
killed at Nogent, near Paris, Febmary 34, 1832, in a duel (resulting 
from a card party) by Count Leon, a natural son of the Emperor 
Napoleon. His seconds were Count d'Estemo. a German, and an 
English officer. 



was delivered up and destroyed. The Princess of Wales, 
(HI the contrary, behaved very foolishly in this business ; 
and it gave a handle to her enemies to represent to the 
Regent that she ought not to be allowed indiscriminate 
intercourse with her daughter. They took a fiendish 
pleasure in laying hold of this, or any other plausible 
pretext, to separate the Princess from her child. 

Tuesday, lotk of August, 1813. — I passed nearly an 
hour with Madame de Sta^l. That woman captivates me. 
There is a charm, a sincerity, a force in all she says and 
looks. / am not disappointed in her. The anger I felt at 
her for not taking up the Princess's cause more warmly 
is, I feel, feist vanishing away. The reason of this hes 
in my unhappy knowledge of the dessous des cartes — a 
knowledge more Ukely to increase than to diminish — 
for the poor Princess is going on headlong to her ruin. 
Every day she becomes more imprudent in her con- 
duct, more heedless of propriety, and the respect she 
owes to herself. The society she is now surrounded by 
is disgraceful. 

Yesterday, when t dined with her Royal Highness, the 
old ourang outang was there, and they sang together for 
some time, and after that the Princess set off with Lady 

[ ] to go to the vile Maison de Plaisance, or rather de 

Nuisance. It consists of two damp holes, that have no 
other merit than being next to the S. kennel. I was 
shown all over, or half over, this abominable place, and 

then dismissed. Lady [ ] told me to-day that she 

was left to chew the cud of her reflections for several 
hours. She said, that she tried " to spit them out, for 
that truly they were neither nutritive or sweet." She 
read one of Madame de Stall's Pdits Romans, which I had 
lent her, and which she told me had given her great 

Madame de Stall's Essa* sur hs Fictions deUghts me 



particularly ; for every word in it is a beautified echo of 

my own feetii^s. Lady.[ ] told me the Princess was 

not content with being next door to the kennel, but would 
go into it ; and there she was introduced to a new brother 

and sister-in-law of the L[ ]s. Alas ! what company 

for her to associate with ! Lady [ ] said she felt very 

much distressed at seeing her 103^ mistress there ; and 
thought the mother of the Princess felt so too, for that the 
latter neither wants feeling nor sense. After two hours 
of music, i.e. charivari, the Princess returned back again 

to the other hole, and supped iSte-d-tSte with Lady [ ]. 

This, at least, was an appearance kept up ; but Lady 

[ ] is terrified, for the Princess talked of sleeping at 

the " cottage." Her Royal Highness's servants are in- 
furiated, and there is no sajdng how long their fidehty 
may hold out. 

Wednesday, iiM 0/ August. — Again I dined at Kensing- 
ton, and after dinner the Princess went with Lady [ ] 

to Mr. Angerstein's, and desired me to follow her thither. 
There was an awkward scene took place ; for Lady 
Buckinghamshire, like a true vulgar, ran off the moment 
she saw the Princess enter the room, and nothing could 
persuade her to come back, instead of standing still and 
making a curtsy, and teiking her departure quietly. 
The gentlemen were still at table. Mr, Boucheret was 
the first who came out. The Princess did not speak to the 
Dean of Windsor, who was there ; which I regretted, for 

her sake. Lady [ ] told me that she had implored 

Lady [C ] [L ] to write to Mr. Whitbread, to say 

it is of vital consequence he should state to her Royal 
Highness that the " cottages " are already a cause of 
scandal ; and, well knowing her innocent recreations, he 
advised that they should take place elsewhere. Perhaps 
he will not dare to give her this advice. 

From Mr. Angerstein's the Princess went to sup at 



Lady Perceval's. I am sorry for her Royal Highness ; 
I think she has sacrificed herself, and that she is really 
attached to a weak intiiguing woman. I heard a curious 
story about the Duke of Brunswick. It is said that he 
has an intrigue with a married woman at Shrewsbury ; 
and, bearing that her husband was absent, the Duke set 
off to a rendez-vous. When he arrived at an inn there, 
he ordered a dinner the next day for himself and bis 
inamorata ; but his broken English, and a pecuUar air 
belonging to him, attracted observation ; and Mr. For- 
rester, son-in-law to the Duchess of Rutland, happening 
to be there, said to the landlord, " I am sure that is a French 
prisoner trying to escape " ; accordingly a hue and cry 
was made after him, and he was arrested. His continued 
bad EngUsh confirmed them in their opinion ; but he 
said he was an officer in the Duke of Brunswick's German 
legion. This was not beheved ; and he, infuriated at 
their doubts, declared himself to be the Duke of Brunswick. 
" No," said Mr. Forrester, " I am certain the Duke of 
Brunswick is not such a frippery fellow as you are." In 
short, he was treated with aJl sorts of indignity ; but at 
length some one knew him, and he was set at liberty, 
and excuses out of number were made to him when it 
was too late. 

I have long had a foresight of some great interior 
revolution in these kingdoms. AH I see and know, and 
do not see but think, confirms me in this opinion. Speak- 
ing morally, it is perhaps better that a man should have a 
compensation in money for his wife's guilt, than in the 
blood of the offender ; but, speaking according to my own 
feelings, I think that were I in such a miserable position, 
nothing but fighting to the death would satisfy me ; for 
how can gold be a compensation for wounded honour ? 
It is, according to my way of thinking, only an additional 
affront. If a man, from the highest of all motives. 
Christian humility and forbearance, pardons a faithless 



wife, and the object of her gailty passion, then indeed 
he is truly great, and by his greatness alone overcomes 
his injuries, and washes away all stain from his character : 
— but to take a price for an injury is a cowering mefin idea ! 
that could only obtain currency from its being part of 
that system of trade upon which hang our law and our 

S««rf5y. — Last night the Princess again went to sup at 
Mr. Angerstein's, and unfortunately Lord and I^dy 
Buckinghamshire were there. The latter behaved very 
rudely, and went away immediately after the Princess 
arrived. Whatever her opinions, pohtical or moral, may 
be, I think that making a curtsy to the person invested 
with the rank of Princess of Wales, would be much 
better taste, and more hke a lady, than turning her back 
and hurrying out of the room. 

I wonder why the Princess treats the Dean of Windsor 
with such marked dislike, for he has always been respectful 
and attentive to her and her mother, the Duchess of Bruns- 
wick. It is vexatious to those who take an interest in 
her Royal Highness' welfare, to observe how she slights 
persons to whom it is of consequence for her to show 
civiUty ; and how she mistakes in the choice of those on 
whom she lavishes her favour. The Princess is always 
seeking amusement, and tmfortunately, often at the ex- 
pense of prudence and propriety. She cannot endure a 
duU person : she has often said to me, " I can foigive 
any fault but that " ; and the anathema she frequently 
pronounces upon such persons is, — " Mine Gott ! dat is 
de dullest person Gott Almighty ever did bom < " 

Monday, 22nd of August. — I went and saw Lady [ ] : 

she told me a piece of news, which it gave me great 
pleasure to leani, namely that Trou Madame exists no 
more, and that Chanticleer has been fairly driven off bis 



dunghill. Lady [ ] does not know how this has been 

efiected ; but that it has is certain, thank heaven ! — 
Only, I fear, that if Chanticleer's wings are clipped, they 
will grow again ; and if his neck is twisted, some other 
dunghill bird will roost on the same perch ; and it is not 
only disgraceful that the Princess should have lived in 
intimacy with such persons as the S[apio]s, but they have 
extracted so much money from her, that, had their reign 
continued longer, she would have been greatly^ embar- 
rassed. All Mr. H[ ] has said to me on this melan- 
choly subject, starts up and stares me in the face with 
damning truth. Even were there the excuse, though a 
bad one, of supposing her heart interested in any one 
person, I could forgive — nay, feel sympathy with her 
Royal Highness : but taking pleasure merely in the 
admiration of low persons, is beneath her dignity as a 
woman, not to mention her rank and station. I am 
sometimes tempted to wish Lord H. F[itzgeral]d had 
continued to love her ; for I am sure, poor soul, had any 
one been steadfast to her, she would have been so to them ; 
and though, as a married woman, nothing could justify 
her in being attached to any man, yet it is a hard and 
a cruel fate, to spend the chief part of one's existence 
unloving and unloved. How few can endure the trial ! 
It requires strong principle, and a higher power than 
mortals possess, to enable them to bear su»ii a one ; — 
and when I hear women sitting m judgment on the 
Princess, (many of them not entitled, by their own conduct 
as wives, to comment on the behaviour of others,) and 
declaiming against her with imchristian severity, — some 
from a feeling of self-righteouaiess, others from pohtical 
or party motives, — it is all I can do to forbear from te l li ng 
them how unamiable I think such observations. Even 
when a woman is guilty, I cannot bear to hear another 
of her own sex proclaim her fault with vehemeaice ; I 
always think it proceeds from private malice, or a wish to 



appear better than others. If ever there was a woman to 
whom, in this respect, mercy should have been shown, 
it was the Princess ; and those who condemn her should 
consider the trying, nay, ahnost unparalleled situation in 
which she was placed, immediately after coming to this 

Who and what was the woman sent to escort her Royal 
Highness to England ? Was there any attempt made 
on the part of the Prince to di^[uise of what nature his 
connection was with Lady J[erse]y ? * None. He took 
every opportunity of wounding the Princess, by showing 
her that Lady J[erse]y weis her rival. The ornaments 
with which he had decked his wife's arms, he took from 
her and gave to his mistress, who wore them in her 
presence. He ridiculed her person, and suffered I-ady 
J[erse]y to do so in the most open and offensive manner. 
And finally, he wrote to her Royal Highness that he 
intended never to consider her as his wife — not even 
though such a misfortune should befal him as the death 
of his only child. 

U When the Prince made known this declaration, it does 
not appear that he assigned any cause of accusation 
against his wife. He was the first to blame ; and when her 
subsequent follies (for from my heart I beUeve they never 
were more than follies) gave him an excuse for his ill- 
treatment of her, it should be remembered, what an 
example of barefaced vice was set before the Princess 
whai she was first married to the Prince. Unfortimately, 
she had not been brought up with a strict sense of moral 
rectitude, or reUgious principle, in her childhood ; neither 
was the example set her by her father, the Duke of 
Brunswick, likely to give her just notions of right and 
wrong. She loved her father, and therefore excused his 
errors. From her earliest jrears she had been taught by 
the example of others, and those most near and dear to 
* Frances Twysden, vile o( the 4th EarL 





her, to consider married infidelity as a very venial tres- 
pass ; and when she came to England, this notion was 
confirmed by those whom she had thought most to have 
honoured, and been guided by in her own conduct. It 
may be said that the person who cannot discern between 
vice and virtue, and choose for herself which course to 
pursue, is alwajra to blame. Granted ; — but surely, for a 
woman so educated, and who had such examples set 
before her, there ought to be some indulgence shown, 
and some consideration made, for frailties which, in one 
shape or other, are common to humanity. 

While opprobrium was heaped on the Princess of Wales, 
and the smallest offence against etiquette or propriety 
which she bad committed, was magnified into crime, the 
Prince ran a career of lawless pleasure unrebuked, nay, 
even applauded 1 How true is the proverb^" One man 
may steal a horse, and another may not look over a hedge." 
I am not one of those who think that crime in the one 
sex alters its nature and becomes virtue in the other. 

Tuesday, 23d August. — I dined at Kensington. The 
manner in which Pylades and Orestes are treated, amuses 
and makes me melancholy at the same time ; for it shows 
how things were, and how they are. The only new person 
I have seen at Kensington for a length of time, is Madame 
Zublibroft [Zabloukoff ?], the wife of a General Zublibroff. 
She is a daughter of Mr. Angerstein's, and a very pretty, 
agreeable-lookii^ person. Her husband E^pears clever 
and ^ncere. I am sure, by the conversation I heard him 
hold with the Princess, he is a good nkan . She deceives the 
wife, X think, completely ; but I doubt it is not so with 
the husband : he nevertiieless seems friendly, but friendly 
with sdf-<lignity. He told her Rojral Highness some 
home truths, which she did not at all relish ; but, being 
determined to like him, she contrived very ingeniously 
to turn the subject in the light in which she chose to have 



it viewed, leaving General Zublibrt^ [Zabltmkoff] precisely 

at the point whence he had set out. Accustomed as the 
Princess is, in common with all royalties, to see only through 
ibe mediom of her own pasdons, she contrives generally to 
conceal whatever is disagreeable to her, and to have ears, 
yet hear fwt. So far, Bonaparte, by maMi^ a new race of 
kings, may perchance aUer the nature of royalty : but 
I do not beheve he will ; for the evil lies in the station 
more than in the individual. Vet any magistrate gifted 
with the same superiority of power and fortune, would, 
though under another titie, be just as Hable to the same 
prejudices as a king or an emperor ; and 

A rose by any other name wotdd smell as sweet 

I conceive, however, that a restless and active mind may 
dwell on this subject, till all sorts of chimeras enter the 
brain. My walk lies another way. 

Wednesday. — ^Tfae Princess drove to Lady Perceval's, 
and dined there yesterday. Qianticleer was there. It 
was curious to see how ^e thought she hid matters from 

Lady P[ }. The latter is a weak intriguing woman, 

who seems to me to be a mere convenience, but can see 
as far into a mill-stone as another, especially ftuch a 
broad barefaced one. 

Lady [ } told me, that in going out of Kensington 

Palace gates, by driving furiously, <me of the leaders 
fell, and the poor httle postMon was thrown off, and 

Lady [ ] feared, at first, seriously hurt, for he did not 

get up for several minutes. The Princess was wholly 
nnmoved, and never even asked how he did. Lady 

[ ^J said she could not express the hatred such want 

of fedII^; excited in her. The Princess ought not to have 
tUowed the boy to ride on, but should have ordered him 
to go home and be taken care of. Instead of tliis, he 
Rmonated, and twice afterwards, on the road to Lady 



P«t«val's, the same accident very nearly happened ; 
for, of course, the poor boy was tremt^g, and unable to 

gmde the hoises. Lady [ ] tc^d me she was made 

qiiit^ sick by the drcmnstance ; but the resentment 
and abhorrence she felt at the Princess's total want of 
hmtaanity on this occasion made her recover sooner than 
she would otherwise have done ; for indignation too^ 
place of any other feelii^. And no wonder I I conld not 
understand a woman's bedng so unfeeling. It gave me 
also a feeling of dislike towards the Princess. 

To-day I went to Biackheath, by command. Her 
Royal I^ghness was in a low, gentle humour. I walked 
round her mdancht^y gardoi with her, and she made me 
feel quite sorry for her, when she cried, and said it was aU 
her own creation — ^meaning the gardoi and shrubbery, 
&c. — but that now she must leave it for ever, for that she 
had not money to keep a house at Biackheath and one in 
Ixindon also ; and tl^t the last winter she had passed 
there had been so very dreary, she could not endure the 
thought of keeping such a one again. I did not wonder 
at this. All the time I staid and walked with her Royal 
Hi^mess, she cried, and spoke with a desolation of he^ 
that really made me sorry for her ; and yet, at the end of 
our conversation, poor soul, she smiled, and an expression 
of resignation, even of content, irradiated her countenance 
as she said, " I will go on hoping for happier days. Do 
yon think / may ? " she asked me ; and I replied with 
heartfelt waxmih, " I trust your Royal Highness will 
yet see iuany happy days." This Princess is a most 
peculiar person — she alternately makes me dislike and 
like her — her conduct and sentiments vary so in quaUty 
every time I see her. But one sentiment does and will 
ever remain fixed in my breast, and that is pity for her 
manifold wrongs. 

I saw Madame de H^ Jp ; I think she is a good and 

an upright woman. Heavens 1 what an opinion she haH 



of the Princess. She told me she dreamt the other night, 
that her Royal Highness's carriage was fired at, going 
down a lane, and that she was shot in the bade. Madame 

de H[ ] and I agreed on the impropriety of her 

Royal Highness exposing her person as she does, with- 
out attendants, in lanes and by-ways near Kensington 
and at Blackheath. 

Thursday. — ^Lady [ ] was sent to the cottage to 

fetch away books, &c., which had been left there. She 
beard that Chanticleer was ill. Amiable distress, interest- 
ing denouement! — I dined at Kensington. There wasno 

one besides the Princess, except Lady [ \. We dined 

off mutton and onions, and I thought Lady [ ] would 

have d^obbilM with the coarseness of the food, and the 
horror of seeing the Princess eat to satiety. Afterwards, 
her Royal Highness walked about Paddington Fields, 

making Lady [ } and myself follow. These walks are 

very injudiciously chosen as to time and place, though 
perfectly innocent, and taken for no other purpose than 
for the pleasure of doing an extraordinary thing. It was 
almost dark when the Princess returned home in the 
evening. She amused us very much by telling us the 
history of her sister. Princess Charlotte. I asked her if 
the report was true as to the manner of the Princess 
Charlotte's death. She said she did not believe it, 
and had even reasons for supposing she was still alive. 
Princess Charlotte married at 13 or 14 years of age,* 
and, like all princesses, and most o^er women, she 
did so in order to have an establishment, and be her 
own mistress. For some time she behaved well, though 

* She was bora in 1764 and nwnied, in 1780, Frederick (afterwards 
King) of Wnrtemberg. She died September 27, 178S. It is worth 
noticing (remembering tbe Napoleonic sympathies of Caroline, Princeaa 
of Wales) that h«T only daughter Catherine, Princess of Wurteinborg, 
was marned in 1807 to Jerome Bonaparte, King of Westphalia, brothes 
of Napoleon. The Princew of Wales sheltered them during their exile 



her aster said her husband was very jealous of her from 
the beginning, and beat her cruelly. At length, they went 
to Russia, and there she became raamoured of a man 
who was supposed to have been the Empress's lover — a 
circumstance which rendered the offence heinous, even 
though he was a cast off lover. But it seems ladies snarl 
over a bone they have picked, just hke any cross dog. 
The Princess Charlotte was secretly deUvered of a child 
in process of time, in one of the Empress's chateaux. 
Her husband had not hved with her for a 5rear or two, 
and for once the right father was actually named. As 
soon as she recovered from this Utile accident, the Empress 
informed her it was no longer possible for her to allow her 
to Uve under her roof, but that she might go to the 
Chateau de Revelt, cm the Baltic — that is to say, she 
must go : whither accordingly she was sent. The corioas 
part of this story is, that Hiss Saunders, the Princess of 
Waks's maid, at this time Uving with her, had a sister, 
which sister hved as maid to Princess Charlotte, and 
she, after a time, came from the Chateau de Revelt back 
to Brunswick, saying her mistress was in perfect health, 
but had dismissed her from her service, as she no longer 
required her attendance. She gave her money and 
jewels, and, after vain entreaties to be allowed to remain 
with her royal mistress, to whom she was much attached, 
M ss Saunders's sister left the Princess Charlotte. 

Not long after this, word was brought to the Duke of 
Brunswick that she died suddenly of some putrid disorder, 
which made it necessary to buiy the body immediately, 
without waiting for any ceremonies due to the rank of 
the deceased. All further inquiries that were made ended 
in this account, and no light was thrown upon this bu^- 
ne«. Some years subsequently to this, a travelling !jew 
arrived at Brunswick, whpfewore that he saw the Princess 
Charlotte at the Opo^ at Leghorn. He was questioned. 
and declared that he could not be mistaken in her. " I 


oftn/* said the Princess of Wales, "from her sending 
aijvay thfs person who was so much attached to her, and 
the only servant she had whom she loved and relied on, 
that I alwaj^ hope she contrived to elope with her lover, 
and may still be ahve." This story is curious if it be 
htif ; but her Royal Highness loves to tell romantic 
t)i«tories ; so that one cannot believe implicitly what she 

Saturday. — Again I dined at Kensington. BCr. and 

Mrs. [ ] were also there. I was glad to see them at 

her Royal Highness-s table ; for, though not great per- 
sonages in point of rank, they are great in goodness and 
respectability and talent, The Princess talked during 
the whole of dinner time, about her wish to procure four 
or five thousand pounds by giving up the lease of twenty- 
one years of her house at Blackheath, to whoever woijd 

advance her this sum of money. Messrs. [ ] both told 

her it was a very good bargain for any body to enter into, 
but very disadvantageous for her. She insisted upcm it, 
however, and said " she would get it done," and desired 

Lady [ ] to write the next day, and tell Mr. H.[ ^] 

to endeavour to orocure the money for her on these 

After dmner, me Princess, her Lady [——1 and her 
gentleman accompanied her to Vauxhall, and supped at 
the Duke of Brunswick's. The evoiii^ was pleasant and 
amusing, but she would im^ine that Mr. Cell was in love 

with Lady [ ] ; a very funny idea, but it annoyed 

b^. The Duke of Brunswick is a man n4io has no notion 
of persons of different sexes associating together, merely 
for the sake of conveisation and society. The only sub- 
ject in which he shines is in talking of wars, and rumours 
of wars. He told me that tiie reason he could not and 
wQold not do any thing alaoad was, because the Crown 
I^ince insisted upon svery person being under him, and 


all txDops serving in the same cause making an o«tti to 
follow Am when and wheresoever he should appoiot. 
" This," said the Duke, " I never in hoaonr could do ; 
for I do not, in the first place, feel confidence in this man ; 
and, in the second, I could not be subservient to him — 
a foisew ^armesy I asked him what sort of looking man 
the Crown Prince is. " Very like what his framer pro- 
fession was/' replied the JDoke, holding himself erect, 
and gesticulating very much, and " always in this atti- 
tude," — ^placing himself in that of fendng, with both 
arms extended. *' I knew Bemadotte," said the I>uke, 
" before he was in Bonaparte's service, and when he was 
<Hily a mtMrs^armes. He is an upstart, and, though he 
personally hates Bonaparte, he loves the French, and 
only desires to place himself in his stead at their head. 
He would be juet as great a tyrant, were he placed in the 
same position. Hy ojnnion is, he would follow in Bona- 
parte's footsteps, and I do not think the general cause 
will be advanced by him." 

The Duke shewed us two very curious illuminated 
HSS. ; one of them was a ptayer-book, or rather a book 
of prayers, composed and written out in the hand- 
writing of one of the Dukes of Brunswick. There were 
one hundred beautiful pictures in it, all finished like 
the finest painted miniatures, and, Mr. Gell said, executed 
by some great master. The binding of the book was 
also beautiful — of hue carved silver work. We also 
saw a vase twenty inches high, and ten in arcumference, 
made of a stogie sardonyx, with the mysteries of Ceres 
exquisitely carved upon it. There was a printed account 
of how tUs vase came into the possession of the family, 
and its supposed age, which the author placed as far 
back as having been in the temple of Solomon ; but 
Mr. Gell said, " that is nonsense, and I hope they will 
not publish this in the translation intended to be made 
of this account; for the workmanship of this unique 



vase is evidentiy Grecian, and of the finest times ; besides, 
a representation of the heathen deities would not have 
been allowed to exist in Solomon's temple." I do not 
know if the Duke understood perfectly all that Mr. Gell 
said, for his Serene Highness is somewhat bouch6 upon 
these subjects. — We were shown yet one thing more — 
the Duke^s bed—viach is the most uncomfortable place 
of rest I have ever seen. It is made of iron : there are 
no curtains, and only one mattress, and a sheet. He 
piques himself on having, he says, '* sounder and sweeter 
sleep on that bed, than many who tie on the softest 
down." There is a frankness and an enthusiasm in the 
Duke of Brunswick which make me like him very much, 
notwithstanding his ton de gamison. 

Sunday. — ^The Princess went to Lady Perceval's, 

where Lady [ '\ says there is no amusement ; it must 

be, therefore, that this intimacy is kept up for past 
reasons, not present pleasure — a sad consideration. 

Monday. — The Duke of Brunswick came to take 
leave of his sister. I was presoit at their interview, 
with some of the Princess's ladies. There never was a 
man so altered by the hope of glory ; his stature seemed 
to dilate, and his eyes were animated with a fire and an 
expression of grandeur and delight which astonished 
me. I could not help thinking the Princess did not 
recfive him with the warmth she ought to have done, 
lie detailed to her the whole particulars of the conversation 
he had had with the ministers, the Prince Regent, &c. 
He mimicked them all admirably, particularly Lord 
Castlereagh — so well as to make us all laugh ; — and he 
gave the substance of what had passed between himself 
and those persons, with admirable precision, in a kind of 
question and answer colloquy, that was quite dramatic. 

I was astonished, for I never saw any person so changed 



by circumstance. He really looked a hero. The Piincess 
beard all that he said, in a kind of sullen siloice, while 
the tears were in several of the bystanders' eyes. How 
could this be so ? At length, when the Duke of Bruns- 
wick said, " The ministeis refused me all assistance ; 
they would promise me ndther money nor arms. But 
I care not ; I will go straight to Hamburgh. I hear there 
are some brave youi^ men there, who await my coming ; 
and, if I have only my orders from the Prince Regent 
to act, I will go without either money or arms, and gain 
both." — " Perfectly right," refdied the Princess with 
some enthusiasm in her voice and manner. " How did 
Bonaparte conquer the greater part of Europe ? " (the 
Duke continued.) " He had neither money nor arms, 
but he took them. And if he did that, why should not 
I, who have so much more just a cause to defend ? " 
The Duke then proceeded to state how the Ministers 
and the R^ent were all at variance, and how he had 
obtained from the latter an order which be could not 
obtain from the Ministers. After some further con- 
versation, he took leave of his sister : she did not embrace 
him. He held out bis hand to me kindly, and named me 
familiarly. I felt a wish to egress something of the 
kindly feeling I felt towards him ; but, I know not why, 
in her presence, who ought to have felt so much more, 
and who seemed to feel so httle, I felt chilled, and re- 
mained silent. I have often thought of that moment 
since with regret. When the Duke was faiily gone, 
however, ^e shed a few tears, and said empt^tically, 
" I shall never see him more." 

Mrs. and Hiss R[awdo)i and Lord I^enry] F[itK- 
gerald] dined at Kensington. It is comical to see how 
the Princess behaves to him, trying to show off, and yet 
endeavouring to make him hate her. His behaviour is 
perfectly kind, respectful, and even, at times, there is 
a sadness in his manner, which makes me think he 



rcgiets the change in her sentiments towards him ; and 
I am certam he is sony to see the alteration there is in 
the society which frequents her Royal Highness's house. 

I was for several days much alarmed by a change that 
I saw in the shape of the Princess's %ure, and I could 

not help imparting the terrible fear I felt to Lady [ ]. 

She also had noticed it ; but I was much reeved by her 
telfing me she knew for certain it was only caused by 
the ^incess having left o& stays, — a custcHn wUch she 
is very fond of. Sie ought to be warned not to in- 
dulge in this practice ; for it might give rise to reports 
exceediogly injurious to her character. 

Lord H^eniy] F[itzgerald} asked Lady [ ^] many 

shrewd questions about young Chanticleer ? He smells a 
rat : the sweet odour must socm spread far and wide. 
Mis. K[awdo]tt talked openly tofme of this sad and 
di^racejnl story. I felt very awkward, and very much 
ashamed for my poor royal mistress. 

Tuesday. — Again I dined at KeDSmgton. No company 

except the Sapios. Lady [ '\ and I sat apart, and 

talked tt^ether when we could bear one another speai ; 
but the horrible din of their music hardly ever stopped 
the whole evening, except when it was interrupted by 
the disgusting nonsense of praise that passed between 
the parties. Interest and canning excuse it from the 
low and servile ; bat really, to hear bee let hersdf dowa 
so as to mig pseens to the fiddler's son, who is after all 

gone away from her I Lady [ ] and I both agreed, it 

is more tiian hnman patience can bear, to witness such 
folly. The perpetual siUy nonsense of the old bnfknn, 
amountiag ctften to impudence, crowns the whole. 

Thursday. — I dined at Kensington. Messrs. G^ and 
Cravcai and Sir H. En^e£eld were there, besides La^ 
I }. The PnncesB sat at table till we wcot to deq>. 



or near H ;— ^ H. En^tefield did qoite. Not that these 
men dishke women's society, or probably wish them away, 
to lose all restraint, and give way to conversation which 
they could not hold in their presence ; but that sitting 
round a table for fonr hours is wearisome to the body 
as well as mind. Sk H. Engleheld went away immediately 
after the Princess rose ; the others ronained, and were 
pleasant and amusing, as they always are. Her Royal 
Highness is very jealous of any attention being paid to 

Lady [ ^], and, if she listened to Hr. Craven singing, 

the Princess wanted to do the same ; or if Lady [ } 

talked to Mr. Gell, her Royal Highness was curious, 
and came near to hear what they were saying ; and, 

when Mr. Gell attempted to teach Lady [ ] to play on 

the guitar, that annoyed her beyond measure, and she 
desired Hr. Gell to '* come and sit " beside her Royal 
Highness. I admire and am astonished beyond measure 

at Lady [ ^]'s good humour and patience. 

In tiie course of the evening, the Princess desired 

Lady [ } to tell her her fortune ; and, in doing so, 

the story of Tiberius and the conjuror occurred to her ; 
and, as she told me afterwards, she could not resist 
telliiig it to her Royal Highness for her benefit. It was 
a comical story to tell a Princess. I do not think she 

was pleased with Lady [ ] for doing so, thou0i she 

pretended to latigh and be much amused. 

Friday. — {t is said Friday is an unlucky day ; and I 
am superstitious, and inclined to believe in these ttadi- 
tions ; but I never can again in this one ; for Friday was 
a day of happiness to me ; it broi^ht me an imexpected 

pleasure ; I saw [ } and she was kind. This meeting 

has given me fresh courage to bear my unhappy existence. 

I saw Mr. Ward ; he was in a gay good humour. 
How difierent the same man appears at different times. 
and in different comftany 1 



Saturday, 4/A of September.— I called on Lady W[ "i ; 

she is veiy agreeable, and, I think, has much natural 
cleverness ; but it is all wasted in eloquence in conver- 
sation. She leads a strange life, as to bonis and customs, 
which I do not think is calculated to calm her mind, or 
give strength to her body. She is always in a bustle 
about nothing. Many of ber ideas are exalted, and her 
language often poetical, but it is frittered away on 
paltry subjects ; and there is a spirit of restlessness in 
ber, poor soul, which renders her an unhappy being. 
Perhaps, were she compelled, by some kind but resolute 
friend, to lead a more regular and wholesome life, she 
might become less excited. But, alas ! she has none 
such, and each day her mind is getting the mastery over 
her body, to its undoing. 

There was a time when I despised all notions of adhering 
to any r^ular course of existence ; I did not believe 
that such was requisite, or contributed as much as it 
does to health and peace. I Hked sometimes to be out 
all day, and return at night to my meals. Sometimes, 
I woidd sit op late and rise early, and at others lie in 
bed for days. I did not believe that sudi irr^ularity 
could injure my health, much less afEect my mind. But 
I am convinced now, that nothing tends so much to 
enervate or excite (according to the nature of the person) 
as leading this sort of imsettled life. It is the dull round 
of hours for meals, and sleep, and exercise, which is most 
likely to preserve health, and that calm of spirit which, 
though it precludes vivid sensations of pleasure, spares 
those who lead such lives many a severe pang. It was 
not so once, however, with me ; and, when I look at 
what I have just written, I say — Is it I who have thus 
spoken — I who once sought with eagerness to escape 
that odious " peace," which I now covet as the greatest 
blessing ? It is even so. 
I dined at Kensington. A Hr. Hills dined with her Royal 



Highness. I never saw him there before, and I could not 
discover who he is, or anything else about him, except 
that he has vety white teeth and very festooned lips. 

3iri Deceit^er, 1813. — In looking back upon the past 
there is always much melancholy reflection excited, but 
it is a wholesome melancholy, and I wish not to avoid 
it. How little I have done or thought, that has left me 
a pleasant remembrance ! How much time has passed 
that has been wasted in idleness, and in that worst 
idleness, the idleness of the mind ! I know and r^ret 
that it has been so ; but I have never had the power 
to overcome the languor and laziness which have takra 
possession of my faculties. In justice to mjrself, though, 
I must say, it is circumstances which have raidered me 
thus — it is not my nature. Time, which either lessens 
or increases i^ret, will, I hope, bring with it healing 
for me under its wings ; and I have made many wise 
plans for the future, and framed many good resolutions, 
which I hope I shall be able to fulfil. 

In the course of the last four months, the changes 
that have taken place in the political world are of so 
vast a magnitude, that my intellect is not great enough 
to comprehoid them. Holland is free ; Germany and 
Sweden also have shaken off the tryant's yoke ; in short, 
his own speech to the senators at Paris proves sufhciently 
Bonaparte's altered state : — " all Europe was with us, 
all Europe is now against us." — No more needs be added 
to such a confession. We have taken all the merit of 
these changes to ourselves ; with what justice, I am not 
competent to decide. Certainly, Lord Wellir^on is a 
great hero, and certainly, we have been partly the means 
of liberating Spain : but I have sometimes in my own 
mind doubted, whether the opprobrium thrown upon 
the Spaniards was not exaggerated, and whether it might 
not be an artful contrivance of our Government to 



encourage the idea^ in order that a greater share of glc»7 
might attach to as ; while such a notion suited Lol^ 
Wellington's ambition, who wished to have the sole 
command, and whose views perhaps did not even end 
there. So many events in private life are so very difierent, 
when truly known, from what appearances bespeak them, 
that it is impossible to believe the same deceit is not 
practised on a larger scale ; for the passions of nations, 
like those of smaller communities, are, after all, only the 
f^gr^ate passitHis of mankind individually, and are aa 
li^e to influence, and to lead to falsehood, prejudice, 
injustice and crime, in the great political world, as they 
are in the domestic concerns of life. 

It has been said, that we have been the only nation, 
during these last twenty-foor years, that has held out 
E^ainst the tyranny and anarchy whidi ravaged or 
confounded Europe. But when I consider our opinions 
and promises respecting the restoration of the French 
monarchy, and see how widely we now differ from those 
opinions, and fall short of the fulfilment of those 
imtmiises, I cannot help thinking, that neither natic«is, 
nor individuals, should be hasty to enter into eng^e- 
ments ; since the very nature of humanity is to render 
all thiitgs around us mutable, and that it is utterly 
impossible we should not partake in some degree of the 
general condition. In re^rd to these last great Con- 
tinental changes, my opinion is that if any one individual 
has been more instrumental than anoUier in efiEecting 
them, it has been the Crown Prince (Bemadotte), A 
Frenchman hinBelf , be knows how to act upon Frenchmen ; 
and, as a native of the Continent, he loiows better the 
Continental systems than we do. The weakness of all 
pexsons (with few exceptions) in private as well as in 
public life, is to insist upon everybody's being managde 
ptexsseiy as we ourselve3|^ve beoi man^;ed. Tbe 
lArmint the drele, and the more confined the spot on 



which we live, the more (generally speaking) will our 
views and wills be Hmited, and unfit for general applica- 
tion. I bebeve, therefore, that with one Of ibe finest 
cotmtries and constitutions in the world, we are hot calcu- 
lated, as tdanders, to give la«« to the C<»itmetit, or 
to subdue its people. Let us merely eildeavour honour- 
ably to maintain our own laws and liberties inviolate, 
and to be satisfied with that safe and stable power, 
wtuch our insular situation, and our internal greatness, 
bestow upon us. But to subdue France, or impose 
upon its people any government that i& not of their 
own choosing, appears to me folly. To rdieve tke 
oppressed, as we have ever done, is noble, and becoitoes 
us as a nation of Christians, and of good and brave men ; 
but for their sakes to keep up peqietual wars with other 
nations, seems to me unwise. Lending our aid to Spain 
is an exception, and I view it in & very difierent light. 
We cmly went with what we were at fiist tc*! was the 
goieral ^nrit of the whole nation ; It Iras not in favour 
of any one family or dynasty tiut we fought, but lor 
ibe T^hts of an oppressed people, who demanded bur 
E^d and soccoiir. Yet even tiiese were latterly stipposed 
not to deare our assistance : so seldom is it that foreign 
troops are lod^ upon with a favourable egfe. in national 

No one was so likely to be able to defeat Bonaparte 
as the Crown Prince, fronl the intimate knowledge he 
possessed of his diaracter. Beraadotte was also in- 
stigated against Bon^tarte, by one ^o not only owed 
him a personal hatred, but who possessed a mind equal 
to his, and ix^o gave ibe Crown Pitoce both infonnation 
and advice how to act. This was no less a person than 
Madame de St^. It was not, as some have asserted, 
that she was in love with Bemadotte ; for, at the time 
of thetr intimacy, Madame de Stad itas tn love with 
Rocca. But dta used her influoice (which was not 



small) with the Crown Prince, to make him fight against 
Bonaparte ; and to her wisdom may be attributed much 
of the success which accompanied his attack upon him. 
Bemadotte has raised the flame of liberty, which seems 
fortunately to blaze all around. Hay it liberate Europe ; 
and from the ashes of the laurel, may olive branches 
spring up, and overshadow the earth 1 

I wish, ardently wish, individually, for peace ; but I 
wish for it also from that spirit of humanity, which cannot 
hear of a land saturated with blood, and not shrink 
aghast from all the desolation of heart which it implies. 
Uy private life has been calm ; no very hvely emotions 
have given a high zest to existence ; and a ccmstant 
pressure has lowered the tone of my intellect, and reigned 
in n^ imagination. I wish to be able to leave &igland, 
and visit foreign countries ; I long for an opportunity 
to extend my observatioiis, and to acquire new matter 
for my mind to feed upon. 

I check my eager longings, however ; because I know 
that we are erring mortals, and that our views for our- 
selves are generally not those which are for our good. I 
recollect also that everything which I have earnestly 
longed for has come to pass ; and yet the events thus 
desired, are precisely those which have least tended to 
my felicity — indeed, in many instances, have been 
productive of misery. I say, therefore, to my folly, Be 
subdued ; for the v^om of man's desire is only folly : 
and to my eager wish of change. Be suppressed ; for 
there are many changes which would make me miser- 
able, and few that could make me happier. However, 
hopes and wishes must exist while life remains, and we 
must act if we would enjoy. It is only an overweening 
eagerness, a repining spirit, whose gratified desires are 
hable to turn to curses. A moderated wish, made in 
humble subserviency to the Divine power, cannot draw 
down upon ub the displeasure of Heaven. 



SUNDAY, January qth, 1814.— Yesterday, ac- 
cording to appointment, I went to Princess 
I Charlotte. Found at Warwick House the harp- 
player, Dizzi ; was asked to remain and listen 
to his performance, but was talked to during the whole 
time, which completely prevented all possibility of 
listening to the music. The Duchess of Leeds and her 
daughter were in the room, but left it soon. Next 
arrived Miss Knight, who remained all the time I was 
there. Princess Chsirlotte was very gracious — showed 
me all her bonny dyes, as B[essie Mure] would have 
called them — pictures, and cases, and jewels, &c. She 
talked in a very desultory way, and it would be difficult 
to say of what. She oleerved her mother was in very 
low spirits. I asked her how she supposed she could be 
otherwise. — ^This questioning answer saves a great deal 
of trouble, and serves two purposes — i.e., avoids com- 
mitting onfself, or giving ofience 1^ silence. There was 
hung in the apartment one portrait, amongst others, that 
very much resembled the Duke of D[evonshire]. I asked 
Miss Knight whom it represented ; she said that was 
pot known ; it had been supposed a likeness of the Pro- 
tender when young. This answer suited my thoughts so 
comically, I could have laughed, if one ever did at courts 
anything but the contrary of what one was inclined to do. 

Princess Charlotte has a very great variety of ex- 
pression in her countenance — a play of features, and a 
force of muscle, rardy seen in connection with such 

J 1/7 U 



soft and shaddess colouring. Her hands and anns are 
beautiful, but I think her figure is already gone, and will 
soon be precisely like her mother's : in short, it is the 
very picture of her, and not in miniaiure. I could not 
help analysii^ my own sensations during the time I 
was with her, and thought more of them than I did of 
her. Why was I at all flattered, at all more amused, 
at all more supple to this young Princess, than to her 
who is only the same sort of person, set in the shade of 
circumstances and of years ? It is that youth, and the 
approach of power, and the latent views of sdf interest, 
sway the heart, and dazzle the tmderstanding. If this 
is so with] a heart not, I trust, corrupt, and a head 
not particularly formed for interested calculations, what 
effect must not the same causes produce on the eenerality 
of mankind ? 

In the course of the conversatitm, the Princess Char- 
lotte contrived to edge in a good deal of tum-de-dy, and 
would, if I had entered into the thing, have gone on 
with it, while looking at a little picture of herself, which 
had about thirty or forty different dresses to put over 
it, done on isinglass, and which allowed the general 
colouring of the picture to be seen through its trans- 
parency. It was, I thought, a pretty enough conceit, 
though rather like dressing up a doll. " Ah ! " said 
Miss Knight, " I am not content thotigh. Madam — for 
I yet should have liked one more dress — that of the 
favourite Sultana." 

" No, no t " said the Princess, " I never was a favourite* 
and never can be one," — lookii^ at a picture which she 
said was her father's, but which I do not believe was done 
for the Regent any more than for me, but represented 
a yoimg man in a hussar's dress — ^probably a former 

■ This pnAably aUndes to a girlish flMatiaa Prlnceaa Charlotte 
was occnaed of having witji Captain Pltzclarence, one of the oatnial 
Booa ot the Duke ot Claience, afterwards vmilun II. 



The Princess Charlotte seemed much hurt at the little 
notice that was taken of her birthday. After keeping 
me for two hours and a half, she dismissed me, and I 
am sure I could not say what she said, except that it was 
an olio of dicousus and hetert^eneous things, partaking 
of the characteristics of her mother, grafted on a younger 
scion. I dined tfite-ii-t£te with my dear old aunt : hers 
is always a sweet and soothing society to me. 

Jatutary loth, 1S14. — I read several chapters of Miss 
Bmy's work, a Comparative View of the English and 
French Nations, dnce the time of Charles II. to the 
present day. I think this work a most sterling per- 
formance, and one, from the nature of its subject, as 
well as the grave and masterly manner in which she 
treats it, likely to do honour to her memory. I hear 
Hiss B[eiiy] has been reproached with its being too grave; 
but I think the sober chastened style in which it is 
written suits the dignity of the matter. A lighter poi 
might have found de quo* to have made a continuation 
of that most ^niTuring and immoral work, the M^moires 
de Gnumnont ; but where a deeper tone of thought 
induces a higher aim than mere wit and entertainment, 
surely she has chosen more appropriate means to attain 
her object. 

It is the most severely cold weather we ave had for 

many winters past. I called on liiss [ ]. She was 

fuQ of the poUtics of the day, or rather I shoold say, 
events ; for truty the great catastrophe of the fate of 
Europe takes a higher character than that of mere 
court politics. There was a report that Lord Yarmouth. 
who was just arrived, has said, that in a few da3rs the 
allies would be at Paris, as the country made no resistance 
to their progress. It is also said that a deputation to 
Louis the Eighteenth has arrived from France. Won- 
derful, indeed, will be the hour which sees that monarch 



a^oin seated oa his thrtme. Ho^ far the re«tomtion of 
the Bourbons might be productive of happiness to France, 
I cannot pretend to determine. Certainly, I would not 
have more blood shed on their accotmt, or cm any account ; 
but if the people will with one voice receive them, I believe 
I have a hankering at my heart that those remaining of 
the old r^ce should resume the sceptre of their ancestors. 
After all, their misfortvmes are more Ukely to i«n4er 
them deserving, than any other person might be ; and 
God perli4ps will now reward them after their trials. 
Yet I confess, cmtsidering Bonaparte as a conqueror, 
I do not know that be is worse than all conquerors have 
ever been. What seas of blood they have all waded through 
to gain their ambitious ends ! In spite of his crimes 
and of his heartless character, I think him great ; and, 
wherever there is superior intellect, I cannot help in 
soin^ d^ee paying homage to that divine impress. I 
should be Sony that that man was shewn about (or lesser 
villains tP hoot at ; or that he was massacred, to satisfy 
the r9ge of an undistinguishii^ multitude. 

The drcumstance which gives me the greatest ^isjilje 
to BonapQXte, is his having put away his \vife, Josephine, 
whom be did not accuse of any fat4t, save that she did 
not give him an heir to succeed to his crown. Nothing 
can, in my idea, pardon this vile action ; and I cannot 
un<i^tac4 how Josephins condescended to receive his 
visits and his expressions of attachment, after he had 
behaved so cruelly to her. The only thing that can 
reconcile this to one's imderstanding is, that a woman 
will do and sufier much when she loves. There has 
been a little scandal reported of Josephine ; but still 
it amounts to nothing more than rumour ; her husband 
never accused her ; he set her aside as a useless appendage 
to his state ; but he continued to profess affection for 
her, even to the day of his death. 

Every wife, every wom^in, sympathiaod with Josephine ; 



her ntaatidii eUdted in bet own m universal pity. 
Slnce'the time of Henry Villi there had been Co stu^ 
instance of injtistice in a mcnarch. Josephine was 
kind-hearted, and generous ] she ^d many acts of 
cbarity, and was besides a vety fascinating woman. 
These qualities, together with her cruel fate, will make 
her a hetoine in history ; and her rival, Marie Louise, 
wiU stand opposed to her, as heartless and vain ; for 
When the people pitied her, supposil^ she was a victim 
to &onaq>arte's|ipower, she' disclaimed such pity, by 
appearing happy, and pleased with the great station 
to which her marriage with him exalted her. 

At five o'clock I was at Cormaught House ; found 
Lady Anne dressed out like a mad Chinese. Miss Garth 
very quiet, as usual. The Princess, arrayed in crimson 
velvet up to the throat, lookup very well. Shortly after, 
arrived Princess Charlotte and the Duchess of Leeds. 
The former took very fittle notice of her mother, so tittle 
that I do not wonder the Princess of Wales was hurt. 
She took me by the arm and led me to the fireplace, 
and I saw she was ready to weep : I felt for her. Princess 
Charlotte addressed herself wholly to Miss Garth ; and, 
as in a few mom^its Princess Sophia * came, she laid 
hold of her, and conversed aside with her ; all of which 
must have been most cutting to the mother's heart. 
Oh! what an evening of deceit, and of coldness, and 
of cnnnii^! 

At dttmer, I had an opportunity of speaking to Miss 

D[ ) about the old story of the paper Mrs. N[ '\ 

had lent to me, and which she thought I kq)t for some 

sinister purpose. Miss D[ ] said that her sister had 

expressed herself warmly about me before her death. 
That may or may not have been ; but I was glad of an 
opportunity of telling that worldly-minded woman that 
I am not a spy. During dinner tinie, I htard the Princess 

■ OiQoaCettat. 



pouring dissatisfaction into her daughter's ear — if it 
was not there already — saying, *' all the world had hoped 
for promotions, and for emancipation from prisons, &c.. 
Sec., the day of her comii^ of age, but that no pubUc 
testimony of joy had been shown on that occasion, and 
it had passed away in mournful silence." Princess 
Charlotte was considerably struck, and rephed, '* Oh, 
but the war and the great expenses of the nation occasion 
my coming of age to be passed over at present." " A 
very good excuse, truly," said the Princess of Wales, 
" and you are child enough to believe it 1 " and so ended 
aU I heard them say. 

Friday, 14th Jan. — Saw Messrs. G[— — ] and C[ ] 

they told me that they are both perfectly aware to what a 
low ebb things have run. Nevertheless, they are good and 
faithful, and r^ret for hi.r sake the imprudencies and 
follies she is perpetually committing ; but how long the 

Princess will find others so, God knows ! Lady [ ^} 

told me she drove out yesterday for five minutes only ; 
groaned and found fault, and returned ; then made 

Lady [ ] sit with her till seven, listening to perpetual, 

wicked, and nonsensical repetition of evils, the most of 
which she foi^es herself. Chanticleer did not come to 
dinner, which caused great rage and despair. 

Saturday. — I dined at Omnaught House ; Lady [ j 

was ill, to my great sorrow, not tmly for her sake but 
my own. Chanticleer dined there. I read a novel 
all the evening, but yet his very presence is horridly 

Sunday. — I went to inquire for Lady [ ] ; she saw 

me, and told me she had been much distressed this 

morning, for that Miss B[ ] and Mr. K[ ] had 

called, and had been admitted to the Princess, but that 



her extreme ^Ul-humour^must^have been visible. Miss 

B[ ] told her some^home truths, in a very proper 

maimer ; but Lady [ ] said that every subject that 

was touched upon — novels, pubhc news, &c. — all were 
equally displeasing or indifferent to her Royal Highness. 
Lady [ ] said that to her the Princess alwaj^ main- 
tains the language and manners of friendship and of real 
liking. " This," she said, " distresses and womids me ; 
because I cannot really be her friend ; she will not hear 
the truth." 

'* Yesterday, the Princess told her that she was of 
the greatest comfort to her; and she often does so 

after conversations which make Lady [ ] feel the 

reverse. Lady [ ] said to me that this contradicticm 

of sentiments harasses her more than she can express. 

I^ ] has engaged to advance the Princess two 

thousand pounds in the cotuse of twelve months, by 
instalments of five hundred each, I do trust that she will 
not deceive him. She is to pay two hundred a year for 
the money, till the sum is paid oft. I warned bin suffi- 
ciently as to the paction he was entering into ; so he has 
done it with his eyes open : besides, he told me plainly 
she can serve him in two iiLStances, and he expects she will 
do so. The Princess sent to desire me to go to Mr. St, 
Leger, as he is too ill to wait on her, and ask him to pro- 
cure the lease of the house left her by her mother, from 
Mr. Le Blanc, which she wants to give Mr. H. as security 
for the payment of the debt contracted to him. I hope 
she win get that lease ; it is the only security she can 
give. Ob ! how the Princess talks of her mother, till 
really my blood freezes to hear a mother so spoken of 
by a daughter. And that I should listen to such con- 
versation with apparent quietness 1 

At luncheon, her Royal Hij^ess was in high spirits. 
" Shall I tell you something very curious ? " said she. 
I knew it was in vain to stop the tide, so I did not attempt 



it. '* I went one day," she continaed, *' in September, 
to walk from my house at|Blackheath, with Miss Garth, 
to Mr. Angerstein's, who was very ill at that time. I 
went out the back way from my ^irden, through Green- 
wich Park, so that nobody could know me." Hem I 

thought I. " Well, my dear [ }, I was followed by 

two gipsies, who imtited on telling my fortmie. I have 
no money, said I, but they persisted in following mej and 
did so till I came to Mr. Angerstein's gate : I then told 
them that if they would wait there, they should tell my 
fortune when I returned. I found them there on my 
return, and what do you think they told me ? " The 
Princess looked fixedly at me, and rolled her byes with 
that quick, penetrating glance which seems to examine 
all the folds of one's thoughts at the same moment. 
" I am sure, madam, I cannot guess." " Why th^ 
told me that I was a married woman, but that I 
diould not be married long ; and that my heart was 
a foreigner's, and that I should go abroad and there 
marry the man I loved, and be very rich and happy — 
they did, by G — , tell me so — and how could they know 

How, indeed, unless they had been tutored to the tale ? 
Tliis was to myself. What I rephed aloud was, " Very 
strange, indeed, ma'am, but they make up many curious 
and nonsenacal tales ; that is their trade." " "Twas ve?y 
odd," she said, looking significantly ; " wsis it not very 
odd ? " This conversation was all, save what I dread 
most ] and the horror of thinking I shall one day hear it, 
and that ere long, et en dttaUt is the most terrible thought, 
and makes me very uneasy whenever her Royal Highness 
booours me by a t£te-&-t6te interview. She swore to me 
as she was standing by the fire the other dSy, apropos 
des bottes, that Willikin|wa8 ntit her son. " No,"*said 
Ait, " I would tell yon if he was. tNo," she continued, 
'' if such little accident bad happened, I would not hide 



it frbtn yon. He is not William Austiii, thov^h," added 
she ; " but, avouez-tuol, it was very well managed that 
nobody should know who he really is, nor shall they till 
after my death." I replied, that I thought it was nobody's 
bttsiness who the boy was, and that I, for one, had no 
curiosity to know. " That is for why I tell yoo," replied 
the Princess. " Then somebody ask me who Willildn is 
de child of. De person say to me, '£)«y do say, be is 
your Royal Highness's child.'* I answered, ' I^ove it, 
and he shall be your king.* The person was silent after 
that." — I could not resist laughing, and the Princess 
laughed, also. She takes great pleasure in making her 
auditor stare. After a pause, she said, " Poot dear WilU- 
kin, I am so sorry he is growing big, but I am determined 
to have another little boy ; I must always have a child 
in the house." I lifted my eyes to her person ; I really 
fancied I saw the full meaning of her words ; but she met 
my glance with a steady composure which re-assured me ; 
for I thought no one could look so calm, so bold, were 
there any thing to be ashamed of ; and I replied, *' But, 
madam, you have the same interest in Willildn that ever 
you had." " Oh ! yes, to be sure, I love him dearly, 
but I must have a UtUe child; he is growing too big, 
too much of a man." 

The conversation then cnangeu, f<n' I said nothing — 
what could I say — though 1 thought much. If she adopts 
another very young child, and that the transaction be 
ev^ so innocent, still evil will be attached to it ; again 
her enemies will have something to say against her. 
Poor foolish woman I that she should not see that, in 
tdking another child under her protection, she will lay 
herself open to fresh accusations. She does not want 
Sense ; >yet such folly I never saw before in a person not 
bereft of her senses. I dared not tell her how imprudent 
I thotight ibb wotdd be, if she gratified this wiih for a 

* Sbe made him bar beir 



youi^ child. I wish she had some friend who would 
tell her the truth. I have often thought that her Royal 
Highness's having no confidants in her ladies, was a very 
fortunate circumstance ; and I have said this to her face ; 
yet, I earnestly wish that she had some wise counsellor 
who had inflaence over her. 

Monday.— 1 dined at Connatight House. Old Ourang 
Outang came in the evening. The Princess went down 
stairs for some music, and when she came up was ready 
to fall with breathlessness. This lasted for some minutes, 
for I was sitting with my back to the pianoforte, reading ; 
but, on chancing to look round, I saw her look signi' 

ficantly to S[ ] and say, " If you knew rehat it is" — 

then catching my eye, she added, *' so soon after dinner, 
to run up down staircase." I looked stedfastly at her 
Royal H^hness, but she never flinched beneath my gaze. 
No, I do not believe her guilty, but I wish to Heaven 
she did not talk such nonsense. 

rf«S((ay.— Lady [ ] told me the old Ourang and 

his wife were with the Princess the whole day ; that at 
dinner she cried and looked very ill, and said she had been 
so all night, and seemed really suffering. After dinner, 
her Royal Highness made a wax figure as usual, and gave 
it an amiable addition of large horns ; then took three 
pins out of her garment, and stuck them through and 
through, and put the figure to roast and melt at the fire. 
If it was not too melancholy to have to do with this, I 

could have died of laughing. Lady [ ] says the 

Princess indulges in this amusement whenever there are 
no strangers at table ; and she thinks her Royal Highness 
really has a superstitious belief that destroying this 
«^y of her husband will bring to pass the destruction 
of his royal person. What a silly jnece of spite I Yet, it 
is impossible not to laugh when one sees it done. 



Saturday, 2ijtk January. — I dined at Connaught House, 

and passed three hours of dulness with Madame S[ ] 

and the Princess. After dinner, Thomas Campbell came. 
The Princess did nothing but try to amuse that child 
Willikin, who will be a thorn in her side yet, if she lives. 

Campbell and Lady [ ] talked and recited verses, 

which did not please her Royal Highness. Nothing 
entertains her except talking of her grievances, which 
always at the moment affect me, and which are, in the 
great outline, true ; but mifortunately I know all the filling 
up of the picture, and that is so silly, so despicable, that 
one becomes indignant at having one's feelings excited 
in favour of a cause where there is so much to blame on 
both sides. One can only regard it in oneself as a piece 
of weak tenderness, an animal sensation rather than a 
mental sympathy, to feel anything for evils of such a 
nature, and most of them of a self-constituted kind. 

Sunday. — I called on Lady W[ ]. She has tranquu 

and dignified manners, though rather cold. She was, 
in her youth, exceedingly handsome, it is said, and long 

held in thrall Lord H[ ], but always with safety to her 

own character. Her love of command superseded all 
other love, and her husband never dared to say his soul 
was his own, although a very amiable man ; this cast a 
ridicule upon him, as it will upon all those who are foolish 
enough to allow their wives to usurp authority over them. 

Lady [ ] told me that the Princess complains of being 

beset by spies, that she abused all her servants, especially 

Mrs. I^barts ; in which idea Lady [ ] assured her 

she was mistaken. 

The Princess wishes to have a lodging in the country, 
that she may go there unaccompanied by her household. 
What a mad scheme I but, when she is determined to do 
a thing, who can stop her ? 



All of a. sudden the Princess sent out cards for a dinner ' 
party ; all the persons she invited were of the o{^x)sition. 
I dare say it will be said that she lives entirely with these 
persons, and low company ; the latter, alas I is but too 

To-day, I dioed at Connaoght House ; the Princess 
Charlotte was there ; she was in her most gracious mood, 
but appeared low-spirited. The Princess Sophia of 
Gloucester was also of the party ; they left Connaught 
House early, and none of the royal party seemed pleased 
with one another. 

— I came to town Thursday, a4th FeluTiaiy. I never 
leave home without regtet ; life is so short, so uncertain, 
that it seems to me as if all voluntary absence from What 
we love most, is folly. I dined with my aunt, and went 

in the evening to Miss [ ]. I made acquaintance with 

a, Monsieor D*Erfeuil. He has a cleVeT-looking coun- 
tenance, but with a cast of the ejre, not unUke that of the 
Duke of Orleans, and his expression im[dies insincerity. 
I heard that it is thought Mr. Robinson, Lord Grantham's 
brother, has brought over dispatches which are of a nature 
to force our government to make peace with Bonaparte. 
I am sorry for these poor 4eceived Bourbons, but not sorry 
for the peace which is talked of. 

Friday.— 1 dined at Lord F[ '] C[ fs. It is 

melancholy to see one of a distinguished family reduced 
to living in so httlc and mean a house ; and the more to 
as he is thus reduced from a mistaken notion that he is 
acting rightly. And what is yet more grievous to his 
friends is, that it is impossiUe to be of any service to him, 
because his heart only half opens, and before one can get a 
place In it, H closes again. We played at dull cards. I 
escaped as soon as I could. I went to Mrs. Vilhers, and 



bom U^. Villiers to Uadante de Stafil. At Mrs. VUlierg's, 
I saw Hr. Arbuthnot and bis bride ; sbe is very pretty, but 
it is what is vulgarly called Pig Beauty, in English ; in 
French La Beauii du Diable, i.e.. Youth. He is all fire 
and flames and love, selon son ordinaire, and so very 
proud of her ! Jt is rather agreeable to see any person so 
completely happy. There was, standing close by him. a 
person wlu)m> twenty years ago, he had been madly in love 
with. She had, it was said, bebaved remarkably well. 
but yet there was such 9 melancholy in seeii^ 

The object alter* d, the desire the same — 

it was such a perfect illustration of the instability <^ all 
human affections, that I stood and philosophised on my 
own heart, and that of the rest of mankind, despising alike 
the oqe and the other. But this anger gainst myself 
nev^ lasts long : cm se racommode si facilement avec ce 
que Ton aime I 

From Mrs. Villiers I proceeded to Madame de StaCl'*. 
I saw there Monsieur de la Garde, Monsieur D'Erfeuil, 
Messrs. Gell, Craven, and Mercer, Monsieur de Meffelt, 
the Austrian ambassador, and I know net who besides. 
The latter has very u^y features, but a [deasing coun- 
tenance. I made acquaintance with a Lady W[ 1 

just come from Paris, who has brov]^ht a packet to Lady 
Hertford from the ci'dcvaot ^npreae Josephine, which 
packet made much noise, and raised much conjecture ; 
for persons inimical to the Regent were glad to catch hold 
of it as a subject of abuse. Whether the story I beard 
concerning the presents was true or not, I cannot say ; 

but it is curious. Lady W[ ] praised Paris, its 

fashions, and its society ; which latter, she says, is 
peculiarly agreeable to women. 

Saturday.— I dined with Madame de Stagl ; there werf 
no ladies except Miv B[ ] and Madame de VaudreuU. 



It is always delightful to be in Madame de Stafil's society ; 
even those persons who have been most inimical to her, 
have generally been subjugated by her sincerity, her 
kindness, and the charm of her conversation — which, 
unlike that of any other person, male or female, in giving 
out her own ideas, awakens those of her hearers, and 
draws them, as it were in despite of themselves, to a 
reciprocity of communication. Thus it was that Madame 
de Sta€l acquired a knowledge of mankind, which super- 
seded all that books can ever teacb. 

From Madame de 5ta€l*s I proceeded to Lady Salis- 
bury's. I met there my old friend Lord D[ ] ; he is 

not particularly amusing, but he has been my friend for 
twenty years, without ever evincing a shade less (A kind- 
ness towards me during that Icmg period. It is [deasant to 
have such a friend, and fully compensates for want of 
superior talent. Lady S2Llisbury's was a brilliant 
assembly. Lady Melbourne introduced me to a Monsieur 
de Neiunann, an Austrian, who seems very agreeable. 
I like the society just now in London ; there are many 
foreigners. Mademoiselle de Sta€l is very clever and 

agreeable en tite-d-fite. Lady [ ] tells me, but she is shy 

and reserved in general society ; one looks at her with 
interest, as being Madame de StaSl's daughter. 

Tuesday. — I called on Mrs. W. Lock, to ask her bow the 
Princess had received my excuse ^tiiicb I sent for Sunday 
last. Mrs. L[ock] said she was very gracious to her, and 
spoke kindly of me. Lady E. Whitbread, and Mrs. 

W[ ], and Mrs. Beanclerck dined at Kensington that 

day. Mrs. L[ock] told me Lady E. Whitbread appeared 
shocked when she looked at the Princess's figure. Mrs. 
L[ock] ascribed this to the Princess's wearing extremely 
short petticoats ; but I thought, with fear, that peiiiaps 
Lady E. Wbitbread's disgust was occasioned l^ other 
ideas ; althoogb, considering the 1^ and feet which the 



short petticoats display, there is more than enough to 
shock a woman like Lady E[lizabeth]. 

I dined with my aimt ; she told me a curiotis anecdote she 
had heard about Caulincourt, who [she] had hitherto held 
in abhorrence, as the murderer of the unfortunate Duke 
D'Enghien. It is said that when he was sent to arrest 
him, he wished to save him, and, entering the room where 
the Duke was, he looked round, and then full at him, as at 
a person wholly unknown to him ; then turning to his 
gens d'armes who attended him, he said — " You see the 
Duke is not here, we must seek him elsewhere ; — ^when a 
lady to whom the Duke D*Enghien was attached rushed 
into the room, and falling on her knees to Caulincourt, 
cried out, save him I save him t " Vous le voyez devant 
vous ; vous n'anrez pas la cruaut^ de le perdre." At this 
imprudence, Caulincourt was obliged to execute the orders 
he had received, and he desired his men to seize their 
unfortunate victim. How far this story is a fabrication 
or not, in order to soften people's judgments against 
Caulincourt, rests with future times to discover. 

Wednesday, 2d of March. — I am writing from the Priory ; 
a far different scene of woe from that which I witnessed 

at Lady S[ ]*s. Here every thing is to be as if no 

change had taken place. Poor Lord Abercom I he wishes 
to forget those he has lost ; but the remembrance of them 
will cling to him as long as life remains. He will not bend 
to the storm, but stands erect, and bids it defiance. I 
wish I could give him comfort, by adviang him where to 
seek for it, where alone it is to be found ; but his heart is 
hardened, and he will not believe. 

To-day, I received a letter from the Princess of Wales : — 


Of my health I have no right to complain, but the state of 

suspense and the ray of hope I had for some days past have 



lc«pt my miiul in a omstant state erf pertnrbetiMi : but tlus 

happy vision has vajoished, and the monster is fast recovering 
again. Princess Charlotte I have now not seen for six weeks 
vast. The only great news I can oSer you, is Lady Charlotte 
Rawdon's extraordinary mairiage with a lieutenant on half- 
pay, of the name of Fitzgerald ; and the death of Sir John 
Douglas, which took [dace on the 5th of March, when exactly 
twelve months ago the division took place in Parliament 
upon his conduct. His buri^ was one of the most pompous 
ever seen, as if he had been the commander-in-chief hunself , to 
the disgust and contempt of every body who saw that show 
passing ; he has been buried at Charlton, to the great annoy- 
ance of the Perceval family : and so much about nothing. 
I remain, for ever, 

Your affectionate frigid, 

C P. 

I arrived at Worthing Tuesday evening. The weather 
was beautiful, but my mind was the reverse of serene ; 
recollections of the past, and fears for the future, got the 
better of me. I dislike this place as a locale, yet it was by 
my own choice, I came to it. How unreasonable 1 Often 
when we say a thing is our own choice, it is the force of 
circumstances which drives us to the action ; the will, 
in fact, is only in oqr minds ; it frequently fails in the 
fulfilment, or is pleasing only on one side of the question, 
while it is abhorrent on the other. I tutored myself, 
however, to bear with better grace what I had determined 
to undergo ; and, in the very endeavour to conquer 
ourselves, we lose some part of that irritable hiunour 
which mars our own comfort, as well as that of others. 

I slept soundly the night of my arrival, and the next 
day the sun shone gaily, the sea looked grandly bright, 
and poor human nature was exhilarated. The power of 
employing one's faculties is the best gift of Heaven : I 
felt this power return in some small degree, and with it 
the enjoyment of existence. 



On Wednesday, the 8th, I read in Stafford's hbrary the 
wonderful news of the allies entering into Paris. The 
particulars of this extraordinary epoch in the world's 
history will be written every where by every pen ; but 
the effect it produces on the minds of individuals will 
be varied as the varied passions, habits, and tempers of 
those individuals. On mine, it impresses the awful power 
of an overruling Providence, who in his own time brings 
to bear, by apparently very simple means, the most 
unexpected and incomprehensible events. In about six 
montiis* time, the whole affairs of Eiu'ope have been 
changed ; the storms of revolution are drawing near a 
close, and they have borne away, in their devastating 
coiurse, many of the errors and crimes of former times, 
it is to be hoped ; and we may with humility conclude, 
this moral tempest has been designed to purify and to 
ameliorate mankind. All is not yet completed ; but the 
hand of Heaven is peculiarly visible in this great event. 
The Disposer of all things will bring them to the best 
issue in his own good time. 

Sunday, April 10th, 1814. — ^The incidents which take 
place every how are miraculous. Bonaparte is deposed, 
but aUve ;— -subdued, but allowed to choose his place of 
residence. The island of Elba is the spot he has selected 
for his ignominious retreat. France is holding forth 
repentant arms to her banished sovereign. The Poissardes 
who dragged Louis the Sixteenth to the scaffold are 
presentmg flowers to the Emperor of Russia, the restorer 
of their Intimate king 1 What a stupendous field for 
philosophy to expatiate in ! What an endless material 
for thought I What humiliation to the pride of mere 
human greatness ! How are the mighty fallen ! Of all 
that was great in Napoleon, what remains ? Despoiled 
of his usurped power, he sinks to insignificance. There 
was no moral greatness in the man. The meteor dazzled, 



scorched, is put out, — utterly, and for ever. But the 
power which rests in those who have delivered the nations 
from bondage, is a power that is delegated to them from 
Heaven ; and the manner in which they have used it is a 
guarantee for its continuance. The Duke of WeUington 
has gained laurels unstained by any useless flow of blood. 
He has done more than conquer others — ^he has conquered 
himself ; and in the midst of the blaze and flush of victory, 
surrounded by the homage of nations, he has not been 
betrayed into the commis^on of any act of cruelty, or 
wanton offence. He was as cool and self-possessed 
under the blaze and dazzle of fame, as a common man 
would be under the shade of his garden-tree, or by the 
hearth of his home. But the tyrant who kept Europe 
in awe, is now a pitiable object for scorn to point the 
finger of derision at ; and humanity shudders as it 
remembers the scourge with which this man's ambition 
was permitted to devastate every home tie, and every 
heartfelt joy. 

I carmot recover from my astonishment, at the miracu- 
lous winding up of this complicated piece of mechanism. 
Still the downfall of the colossal mischief who stalked 
this earth in dreadful wrath, is appalling. There is a 
feeling of regret.xmaccountable perhaps, but not unnatural, 
that Napoleon did not finish his career in some way more 
analogous to his course. He ought to have died in a 
manner more consonant, as it were, with himself. 

How strikingly do these late events teach us, that what 
is merely dependent on the tricks of fortune, and the tide 
of popular feeling, is ephemeral and valueless ! The same 
mob — the same people — now call aloud for one of that 
race, whom twenty years ago they led to the scaffold. 

Saturday, May 21, 1814. — Nearly seven weeks have 
elapsed since I came to this place. The intoxication of 
the mind which naturally takes placo after any great 



event, subsides of course, and there succeeds a sort of 
deadness which is the consequence of excitement. Then 
comes the sober appreciation of the intrinsic value of 
events. The restoration of the Capets to the throne of 
their ancestors is connected with every sentiment of moral 
justice ; and the downfall of that wonderful man, Bona- 
parte, is also agreeable to every principle of Uberty and 
humanity. But, that immediate tranquillity will ensue 
appears to me imlikely. > How can the old nobility see 
all their honours tarnished, by the admission of the new, 
to share with them the rights and privileges of their 
order i How can they behold their fortunes and estates 
for ever alienated from themselves and their families, 
and not feel that indignation which they would be more 
or less than human not to feel ? Must not this produce 
perpetual discord ? The king, too — can he place confi- 
dence in the men who so lately served Bonaparte, and 
assisted him to mount that throne from which they after- 
wards expelled him ? No, it is impossible ; and they in 
their turn, from feeling that it is so, will hate the puppet 
of their own creation, and retain him in leading-strings, 
or again hurl him from his exaltation. To forgive and 
forget every thing, are the fine foolish words put into 
Louis the Eighteenth's mouth ; but who can forget th* 
murder of a brother, the dethronement of a Idng, the 
subversion of empires, and the shedding of the blood of 
millions ? For all these crimes Bonaparte is pensiimed ; 
his son is presented with the duchies of Farma, Placentia, 
and Guastalla ; his brother is made King of Naples ; 
and he himself a kind of sovereign in an island which may 
become a maritime power : — and all this is done by tht 
senate who are to support the throne of Louis. 'Tis an 
attempt at amalgamating the most discordant element** 
There will yet be, I fear, more tumults and wars. I 
thought with great interest of the poor royal fugitives at 
Hartwell, when they first heard the confirmation of their 



hopes. Perhaps, that first moment was the happiest 
they will ever enjoy ; for surely their return to their 
native country must have been replete with mournful, 
horrible recollections. Besides, the cares and miseries 
which are ever attendant on exalted stations, theirs must 
be peculiarly exposed to dangers and difiEiculties. 

The Emperor of Austria, King of Prussia, and Emperor 
of Russia, are expected in this coimtry. Great prepara- 
tions are making for them. It is now said the first 
does not intend to come : — I think, he cannot like to 
show his Janus face. The Emperor of Russia is my hero, 
and everybody's hero. I once saw his picture : — if he 
is in reahty as handsome as that represented him to be, 
fais personal aspect corresponds witii his late calm and 
ma^iificent conduct. 

It is shameful how our Regent is kicking the dust in 
the Princess of Wales's face. There are moments when 
her wrongs make all her errors forgotten. There is that 
little vile Prince of Wirtemberg,* her owh nephew, who 
has never been to see her. White's club is to give a great 
ball and f£te ; and they have given tickets to the R^ent, 
that he may invite the royal family, and this on purpose 
to avoid a^dng the Princess. Was there ever anything 
so shameful ? 

The Duchess of Oldenbui^h f is spoken of as a very 
clever woman ; and I am inclined to beheve the truth 
of the report, by the observations she seems to take, not 
only of our places of entertainment, but of every thing 
best worth sedng in this conotry. I understand she is 
a great favourite of Princess Charlotte, and gives her (as 
it is supposed) excellent advice about her conduct. I, 
however, know what a ticklish thing it is to advise princes, 
or princesses ; and, besides, from my own observation in 

* Her sistn's aaa. 

t Catherine (1788-1819), sister of Alexander I., Emperor of Rnssia. 
muried, fint. Prince George of Oldenbonig ; secondljr, 1816, William 
King of Wurtemberg, nephew of the Princess of Walca. 



general on human nature, I am more inclined to believe 
in Princess Charlotte's acting according to her own wishes 
and impulses, than according to the advice of any one. 
When these tally, then it is called following advice ; and 
the foolish advisers fancy 'tis they who do it all ; just 
as the Prince Regent believes that he has reinstated Louis 
the Eighteenth, and that Europe is at his command, 
because one or two of its potentates come to look at 

The Prince of Orange, it is said, wishes his wife to go 
with him to his own Dutch land ; and so does the Prince 
Regent, who does not like a rising sun in his own. But 
report also whispers that the rising sun is aware of this, 
and will not consent to the marriage, unless she is allowed 
to shine in her own dominions. I beUeve there is more 
of the woman in her than of the queen, and that she wants 
to get a look at another prince or two before she makes 
her choice of a husband. Perhaps, also, she has still 
a third point in view, and that is, to play off and on, 
marry no one, and love whom she may fancy, noble or 
ctmunon. We may live to see strange things yet, if I 
am not mistaken. 

I heard to-day from Hiss B[ ], that the Princess of 

Wales had been very well received, and much applauded, 
at the annual meeting of the National Education School ; 
and Mr. Whitbread made her a very proper compliment 
in his speech. The Princess sat by the Dukes of Sussex 
and Kent, the first chairmen of the meetings. Miss 

B[ '\ sajrs, the Grand Duchess is charming in her 

maimer, and has an intelligence in her conversation quite 
new in the princess line. She dined at Devonshire House 
last Thursday, where she held an aafiU circle after dinner : 
— all the gentlemen, I hear, looked beautiful in their 
dress clothes. 

This evoiing I received this note from the Princess of 



I have not seen Princess Charlotte for nearly five months. 
She is outra|;eous at the thoughts of leaving this country ; 
and her unnatural father assured her that she should never 
have an establishment in this country. I expect Mr. Whit- 
bread every moment, about this interesting subject. It 
will malce a great rumpus in the houses, both of Lords and 
Commons, wtuch I trust will accelerate his departure to the 
skies. — BeUeve me for ever, dead or aUve, your most sincere 

C. P. 

Received a letter from Lady [ ], telling me that the 

Princess talks of coming to Worthing. I am very sorry 
to hear this ; for, though I do not dislike her Royal 
Highness's society, on the contrary, no one can be more 
agreeable or amusing than she sometimes is, — still, I 
should greatly have preferred being here alone for a short 
time ; and, when the Princess comes, I cannot count on 
an hour of uninterrupted quiet. It is droll her Royal 
Highness should have said nothing of her intention of 
coming here, in her note to me. I suppose she wishes 
to surprise me by her Royal presence. I hope still, 
however, she may give up this plan, knowing as I do 
how many such she amuses hersdf by making one day, 
and changing another. I dread hearing the same com- 
plaints repeated over and over again ; and, as I cannot 
be of any use to her Royal Highness, I should rather not 
be thrown again into her society as much as I was during 
the last year and this winter. 

Lady [— — ] sent me the following letter from Mr. GeU, 
addressed to her, to read, thinking it would amuse me, 
which it has very much. 

My dear Ladv Aurora, — ^At length, a letter is arrived 
from Keppel Craven, announcing the safe receipt of a letter 
from me, with an enclosure which I presume to be the secret 
communication '^of your excellency. Letters were certainly 
stopped somewHere, and I suppose read by Lord Castlereagh 
and Co., tilt within^a few days ; so, if yours contained treason. 



you had better take leave before he returns to England. 
Mrs. Thompson * has quite recovered her spirits, laughs, and 
Is merry. I dined there yesterday with Professor Playfair, 
somamed Des Dames, (like one of the guides whom you will 
shortly know at Chamouni,} Sir Sydney Smith, Frederick 
Douglas, and Keith Stuart, all of whom were very merry ; 
not to mention Miss Berry ; and the dinner went off with 
unbounded applause, excepting that we sat at it till past 
eleven. They afterwards went a junketing to Lady Hard- 
wicke's, where I again beheld Play-fair des dames, seated 
between Lady Catherine this, and the Countess of that, on a 
sofa, to the great scandal of the discipUne of the university 
of Edinburgh. Sydney Smith, having been long condemned 
to piety, and matters of fact, in Yorkshire, is now broke out 
quite varyingly merry in London. Ward is in Paris, looking 
wretched, unhappy, and angry. This we hear from all 
quarters. The Stael is safely lodged there, and is to give 
parties inunediately to all the great characters, — the Emperor 
of Russia, L'lnfini, the King of Prussia, L' Impossible, and, 
in short, the heroes of all ages and principles ; with the inten- 
tion of extracting from the mass the real quintessence and 
vital principle of virtue, in a hydrogen state, which she 
means to have ready in bottles for exportation. N.B. None 
are genuine but those sealed with her own arms, viz, gules, 
two arms a kimbo, surmounted by a Saracen's head, sable, 
crowned with a French pyx ; crest, a cock and bull ; badge, 
a cat and bladders. These have all been conferred by Louis 
XVTII. during his last visit to London. 

By the bye, I saw, or rather witnessed, last night, that 
Mrs. ManseU, who certainly will knock out the Stael's teeth 
some day or other, and then she will make a pretty woman. 

There is your Prince Paul of Wirtemberg.-f a squinting bird, 
dancing and scolding the ladies, and already out of favour ; 
nephew to Mrs, Thompson, but has not been to her. Alexander 
says he will see her. Lord Beresford is come home, and was 

at the Hardwickes', so I introduced the Lord B [ ] to 

• Mrs. Thompson. This was a. name used to designate the Princess 
of Wales, by some persons corresponding with one another at that 
time. Mr. Thompson, of cotine, meant the Prince Regent. 

t ('78s-'85a.) Nephew of the Princess of Wales. The Emperor 
Alexander did not visit the Princess (" Mrs. Thompson "} on account 
ot the opposition of the Prince Regent 



flirt with him. I kiss Mrs. D [ ]'s hands, and your eyes, 

and if you cannot read this, it is because it is written on my 

knee at breakfast. Is Mrs. D [ ] very angry at me for 

being knighted ? " Rise up Queen of Shel^." Adieu, Adieu. 
Host sincerely and affectionately yours, 


Monday, May 2ist, 1814. — After many difierent 
changes, the Princess came here on the 26th. It was 
twelve at night before she arrived. The inhabitants of 
this town had been waiting to drag her carriage, and they 
had illuminated, &c., according to their abilities, to 
welcome her Royal Highness to Worthing ; but, at last, 
the lights had gone out, and the people gone to sleep, 
and I was not well, and fain would have been asleep, also, 
but I did not like to seem inattentive, and not to be there 
to offer my services to the Princess ; — and when at last 
my patience was exhausted, and I was going to bed — ■ 
she arrived, all graciousness, and looking very well. The 
first thing she did, after a kind greeting, was to give me a 
detail of the late event of the Queen's having written to 
her, by desire of the Regent, to forbid her going to court. 
She then related what had been her answer, namely, 
a determination to go ; but Whitbread, without even 
reading her letter, insisted upon it, she was not to go ; 
and, in the most peremptory manner, almost ordered 
the Princess to copy a letter he had written to the Queen, 
which was a submissive acquiescence respecting the two 
drawing-rooms immediately in question. No sooner had 
the poor Princess agreed, than Mr. Brougham arrived, 
and told Mr. Whitbread he had completely misunderstood 
him, for that it was his decided opinion, that her Royal 
Highness should not have given up her right, but should 
go to court in spite of the Regent and his whiskers. Mr. 
Whitbread was thrown into a state of great agitation at 
finding he had, by his obstinacy, led the Princess into 
error ; and now the two wise men laid their heads tc^etber, 



to know what could be done to set matters to-rights, and 
remedy their own blunders. They thought the Princess 
should write a letter to the Prince in another tone, setting 
forth rights, and threatening complaints, which letter 
they had been the whole of Thursday brewing in the 
Princess's room. 

I fear they will only make bad worse. The whole 
account of this transaction is to appear in to-day's papers. 
The poor Princess was (as usual in the midst of any bustle) 
vastly happy, and full of hope at the mighty things that 
were to accrue to her from all these court contrivances. 
This subject afforded matter for conversation till past 
two in the morning. The next day, the Princess was up 
and flying about at an early hour ; she sent for me 
immediatdy after breakfast, and walked all over the 
town, and up and down the beach, until I thought I 
should have died of the fatigue of following her Royal 
Highness ; and the most of the time she took my ann, 

and leant heavily on it. Lady[ ]was not wdl, so I 

was kept in attendance the whole day. 

At three o'clock, she went out for an airing ; she drove 
by Goring and Sumpting ; and, being easily pleased 
when in good humour, talked the whole time of the 
" great event" as she called it. Her Royal Highness 
descanted upon her intention of going abroad as soon 
as possible, saying,- she thought she was more likely to 
be able to escape now than she had ever been ; for that 
she hoped, and had reason to believe, the Emperor of 
Russia would be friendly towards her : — that she meant 
to ask his Imperial Majesty to bear her request to the 
Prince that she might leave this country. " I will tell 

)rou, my dear[ ], what I expect he is to answer — that 

we are parted from incompatibility d'humeur — that I 
am to have fifty thousand a year, and may go and come 
as I choose." 

Poor wrong-headed Princess ! I said *' Yes Yes," 



to eveiything of course, and bowed acquiescence. Bat 
how litUe can I believe that the Regent will give such a 
reply — still less that the Emperor will interfere in this 
business ? The Prince hates his wife with inveterate 
malice ; and, if she goes out of the kingdom, it will be 
only on one condition, that she shall never return. And, 
if die does go out of the kingdom, she will inevitably be 
ruined. In her peculiar circumstances, as well as station, 
she should never withdraw herself from the public eye ; 
though, as it has been from the beginning of time, all 
potentates and public characters are desirous of sometimes 
laying aside their robes of state, and tasting freedom 
like other men, they have seldom or ever done so without 
losing their own station, and have not obtained that 
enjoyment which they sought. The sentinel must not 
leave his post. In the Princess's particular situation, 
she is more imperiously called upon than any other 
Princess ever was, not to absent herself from England. 
The English, even in these days, are unreasonably pre- 
judiced against foreigners ; and the idea that she has 
resided amongst them for any length of time, will be 
sufficient to raise a feeling of distrust against her Royal 
Highness ; more especially among the lower and middling 

Besides, absence is such a fearful test of human attach- 
ment, that it is very dangerous to venture it. It is 
human nature to love those most whom we dwell most 
with, and who contribute most to our welfare and amuse- 
ment. The person, whether a private individual or a 
public character, who voluntarily forsakes those over 
whom he ought to preside, has no right to expect the 
continuation of their love, or loyalty. 

Had the Princess the ideas of a private individual — 
had she a taste for literature, or even for female em- 
ployments' — I could understand her wish to leave this 
country, and lead a private life. I should think her in 



that case a wise woman, and likely to be a far happier 
one than she could be under the most favourable cir- 
comstances of her present station. But, constituted as 
her mind is, she has only one course to pursue — that 
is, to remain in England, and to endeavour to maintain 
the eminence from which her enemies wish to hurl her. 

The Princess told me, that she thinks the Duchess of 
Oldenbui^h is her friend, and that she has sent her some 
kind messages through Princess Charlotte. The latter 
told her mother, the last time they met, that she was 
determined not to marry the Prince of Orange ; — that 
bis being approved of by the royal family was quite 
sufficient to make him disapproved of by her ; for that 
she would marry a man who would be at her devotion, 
not at theirs. — " Marry I will," said she to the Princess 
of Wales, " and that directly, in order to enjoy my 
liberty ; but not the Prince of Orange. J I think ton so 
ugly, that I am sometimes obliged to turn my head away 
in disgust when he is speaking to me." 

" But, my dear," replied her mother, (at least so her 
Royal Highness told me,) "whoever you marry will 
become a King, and jrou will give him a power over 

" A King • Pho, pho 1 Never / He will only be my 
first street — never my king / " 

The Princess of Wales is dehghted with this hopeful 
spirit, and believes in its continuance. So do I, as to the 
will of the person ; but, as to the possibility or power 
of the executing that will, I foresee a thousand obstacles. 
Besides, Princess Charlotte's inclination will vary with 
every wind that blows ; and I should not be surprised 
to hear that her marriage with the Prince of Orange 
was to take place to-morrow.— There is no believing one 
word these royal people say ; and I verily believe they 
do not know what they believe themselves. 

The Duchess of Oldenburgh was offended, the Princess 



of Wales says, at her not having sent her Chamberlain 
to welcome her to England, which all the other royalties 
had done — at least so she says now, — and that she (the 
Duchess) only awaits her brother the Emperor of Russia's 
arrival, in order to pay her respects at Connaught House. 
I much doubt this will end in smoke ; but a short time 
will show. 

It is publicly known the Regent sent over Sir Thomas 
Tyrwhitt with a private message to the Emperor of Russia, 
desiring him to take no notice of the Princess on his 
arrival in England. Whether or not the Emperor is 
weak enough, or politic enough, to choose to submit to 
this dictatorial order, will soon be known. 

The Princess drove about till eight o'clock, then 
returned to a dinner soupaiive, and sat at it till twelve 
o'clock. I cannot understand what royalties are made 
of, — they are so strong, and able to bear so much fatigue. 

The next day I was again sent for to walk with her 

Royal Highness and Miss L[ ], Lady [ ] being still 

ill. The Princess was in much lower spirits than the 
preceding evening. I attributed it to her not seeing 
any thing in her own favour in the newspaper, but, 

rather, on the contrary, against her. Miss [ ] told 

me, that Chanticleer is either gone, or going immediately, 
to France. I am very glad to hear it, as it will put an 
end to the evil rumours about the Princess, which his 
constant presence at Connaught House excited. 

Thursday, ^h of June, 1814. — I saw Lady E[ ]. 

Poor soul ! the operation she has lately undergone 
proves what strength of mind and moral courage she is 
endowed with. All she cares about is, that it should not 
be known that she has undergone this trial ! She looked 
quite well, and did not allude to what had happened ; 
neither did I, for I know she hates the subject. 



As I walked through the streets, they were crowded 
with people waiting to hear the proclamation of peace, 
which was not, however, proclaimed. I dined at my 
aunt's. B[— — ] C[— — ] told us he had been at Carlton 
House the night before, where he saw all the potentates 
and generals, &c., now assembled in this capital. I was 
very glad he had been invited, for nobody likes to be 
left out and forgotten by those who used to receive them 
well, and I feared his having lived in intimacy with the 
Princess of Wales might have occasioned his disgrace at 
the other court. 

I hear that all ranks, except merely those who bask 
in the sunshine of the Regent's favour, have expressed 
themselves warmly for the Princess ; and that the Prince 
cannot move out without hisses and groans. I am glad 
to think his bitterness and tyranny are mortified ; ^;but 
what good will it do her ? None, I fear. The most that 
can happen, is her having her establishment put on a 
more liberal footii^ by the nation, — and then the Princess 
wiU go abroad, run into all sorts of foolish scrapes, and 
be forgotten at best : — ^worse will it be for her if things 
are there proved, which may be brought back to this 
country, and her whole money, hopes, and happiness, 
taken from her for ever. I tremble for her, poor woman, 
but see no daylight. 

When I went to Connai^ht House yesterday, by 
appointment, I found the Princess dressed in a style as 
if she expected some visitors. She said, that if she did 
not look forward to going abroad, she should die of 
despair ; and, though I think her mistaken in the idea 
that she will be happier in a foreign country than here, 
and that she is wroi^ to indulge in perpetual murmuring, 
still, whenever she is in her gentle melancholy, and 
touches upon her crying wrongs, (for crjring they certainly 
are,) I am really moved with indignation gainst the 
persecution offered to a princess and a woman. She 



read me a letter she was writing when I arrived : it was 
a letter to Lord Liverpool, demanding leave to quit this 
comitry, and retire whither she would ; saying, that 
she did not wish, nor ever had wished, to render the 
Prince unpopular, and that she b^ged permission to 
go abroad. The matter was spirited, dignified, and 
clever, but was not clothed in English language, nor free 
from obscurity. 

I was much annoyed at her Royal Highness desirit^ 
me " to do this letter into English." I did not like to 
refuse her request, but it has much distressed me, for 
I shall have the credit of having composed the whole 
of the letter. The Princess, after some time spent in 
general conversation, confessed to me that she had dressed 
herself in a half-dress, expecting the Emperor of Russia 
and the King of Prussia to call on her. But the moment 
I told her I hesird those personages had refused to go 
to White's, or to any public place, she said, "Then the 
Prince has conquered, and they will not come to see 
me." I saw slw was very much vexed ; but she btwe 
it with a command of temper which would have done 
any one honour. It seems she sent her Chamberlain to 
welcome them to England. The King of Prussia sent 
his Chamberlain to thank the Princess in return, but 
the Emperor has sent no one, nor taken the least notice 
of her, except by receiving Mr. St. Leger graciously. 

It will be a shame if the King of Prussia does not 
visit her once at least, considering what obligations he 
was under to her father, who died in battle, fighting in 
his cause : — but perhaps He has forgotten this circumstaric*^ 

All goes gloomily with the poor Princess. Lady 
Charlotte Campbell told me, she regrets not seeing all 
these ctuioua personages ; but, she said, the more the 
Princess is forsaken, the more happy she is at having 
offered to attend her at this time. This is very amiable 
in her, and must be gratif3ring to the Princess. 



Thursday, gih of June. — I dined at Connaught House. 
There were Sir W. Gell, Mr. Hobhouse, Mr. Beiinet, and 
Mr. Fox there. The first was low-spirited and ill, yet 
amusing and kind, as he invariably is ; the other men 
are violently ior the Princess, but I fear 'tis their pobtics, 
more than their personal attachment to her, which 
makes them so. I never saw Sir W. Gell so violent as 
he was against the present system of bowing in all things 
to the Regent. He said that the rights of the constitution 
were infringed, and that posting guards at all comers 
of the streets was a species of tyraimy that amounted 
almost to a military government ; that it was the civil 
authorities alone that had any right to keep order, if 
such were necessary, in the town ; but that the next step 
which might now take pkice, was that I might see two 
sentinels placed at my door, and find that I neither could 
go in or out of my own house, if such were /us pleasure, 
(meaning the Regent's,) yet no one be a bit the wiser. 
" Seriously," he said, " it is coming fast to this ; and I 
only hope some disturbance may take place to put an 
end to this nonsense. If other men's minds are strung 
to the same tone, or at all like it, I should think there 
would be riots." 

The Princess received an anonymous letter yesterday 
which she put in the fire ; — the fate all such communi- 
cations deserve to meet with ; for the writer of an anony- 
mous letter would be almost capable of murder. Tlids 
letter was to say, that the Prince would be killed shortly, 
he was such a tyrant. I do not suppose the information 
shocked her very much. 

Princess Charlotte paid her mother a visit last Saturday, 
and told her that every thing was fixed for her marriage ; 
that she did not love the Prince of Orange, but that she 
must be married. So there ends all the nonsense her 
Royal Highness talked and wrote when the saw her 
mother last. It only shows what faith is to be placed 



in her words : — and, indeed, there is no coming at truth 
where Dot truth is. 

Friday, lOtk of June. — I heard Mr. Whitbread called 

on the Princess this morning ; and Lady [ ] said, she 

thinks he is really interested in the Princess, and feels 
compassion for her cruel situation, besides being urged 
by his political career to make a tool of her for his own 

ends. He said to Lady [ ], he thought the Princess 

would get an establishment, and liberty granted her, 
but nothing more. He knows her intention of going 
abroad, and blames it as a very injudicious plan : but 
he is quite aware no one can hinder her Royal Highness 
from following her own inclinations ; so he has not told 
her how unwise he thinks her to leave England, and he, 
as well as all her other friends, can only hope she may be 
prevented by circumstances from taking this step ; or, 
still more, that the wish to go away may cease to exist. 
Mr. Whitbread has very pleasing manners in private : 
they are gentle, almost to effeminacy. 

I dined ^ain at Connaught House : Hiss Berry, and 

Mr. and Miss R[ ] were there : the two latter looked 

very cafottSs. I know they dislike the dulness which 
now prevails at the Princess's dinner-parties. The 
Princess had imagined that she could associate B[essy] 
I^awdon] to her fortunes, and was quite in astonishment 
when she fotmd that that was out of the question. What 
an idea, to separate a mother and daughter ! — and to sup- 
pose that a veiy young and beautiful girl would sacrifice 
her best days to the service of an unhappy Princess. How 
unUkely to hnd one, with similar advantages of mind 
and person to those which B[essy] R[awdon] posseses, 
willing to give them all up, to serve a person who had no 
claim on her I How httle does the poor Princess know 
human character, if she thinks to find such disinterested- 
ness ; — ^nothing for nothing, in this world, is a sad truth. 



Her Royal Highness has taken a dislike to Hrs. 
R[awdon], because she will not permit her daughter to be 
often alone with the Princess. Qianticleer the younger is 
gone to Paris, but the old S[apio]s are still in London, 
and still invited occasionaUy ; but she is disgusted with 
their rapaciousness. This is most fortunate for her sake. 
She has not heard a word from kings, or emperors ; — 
they went to-day to Ascot Races, and are to sleep at 

Saturday, nth. — I was sent for by the Princess this 
morning, to say that she was going to the Opera to-night, 
and wished me to attend her. Lady C[harIotte] L{indsay] 
had just left when I arrived, and the Princess complained 
that " her friends tormented her as much as her enemies." 
I found out afterwards, that this remark was occasioned 
by one of her friends having advised her Ro}^ Highness 
not to take WilHkin to the Opera with her. 

The two Doctors Bumey dined with the Princess ; 

Lady [ ], Miss [ ], and myself were of the party. 

There came a note from Mr. Whitbread, advising at 
what hour she should go to the Opera, and telling her 
that the Emperor was to be at eleven o'clock at the Insti- 
tution, which was to be lighted up for him to see the 
pictures. All this advice tormented the Princess, and I 
do not wonder that she sometimes loses patience. No 
child was ever more thwarted and controlled than she 
is — and yet she often contrives to do herself mischief, 
in spite of all the care that is taken of her. When 
we arrived at the Opera, to the Princess's, and all her 
attendants' infinite surprise, we saw the Regent placed 
between the Emperor and the King of Prussia, and all 
the minor Princes, in a box to the right. *' God save the 
King " was performing when the Princess entered, and 
consequently she did not sit down. I was behind, so 
of course I could not see the house very distinctly, but 



I saw the Regent vtas at that time standing and applauding 
the Grassinis. — As soon as the air was over, the whole 
pit turned round to the Princess's box, and applauded 
her. — We, who were in attendance on her Royal Highness, 
intreated her to rise and make a curtsey, but she sat 
immoveable, and, at last, turning roimd, she said to Lady 

[ "], " My dear, Punch's wife is nobody when Punch 

is present." We all laughed, but still thought her wrong 
not to acknowledge the compliment paid her ; but she 
was right, as the sequel will prove. — " We shall be hissed," 
said Sir W. Cell. — " No, no," ^ain replied the Princess 
with infinite good humour, " I know my business better 
than to take the morsel out of my husbands mouth ; I 
am not to seem to know that the applause is meant for 
me, till they call my name." The Prince seemed to 
verify her words, for he got up and bowed to the audience. 
This was ctmstnied into a bow to the Princess, most 
unfortunately ; I say most unfortunately, because she 
has been blamed for not returning it ; but I, who was sa 
eye-witness of the circumstance, know the Princess acted 
just 35 she ought to have dcwe. The fact was, the Rince 
took the applattse to himself ; and his friends, or rather 
his toadies, {for they do not deserve the name of friends,) 
to save him from the imputation of this ridiculous vanity, 
chose to say, that he did the most beautiful and elegant 
thing in the world, and bowed to his wife ! ! . 

When the Opera was finished, the Prince and his 
supporters were applauded, but not enthusiastically ; 
and, scarcely had iiis Ro3ral Highness left the box, when 
the people called for the Princess, and gave her a very 
warmfapplause.S^Shelthen went forward and made three 
curtseys, and hastily withdrew. — I beheve she acted 
perfectly right throughout thelevenii^; but eveiybody 
tells a^difierent story,Vand4thinks differently. »/ How 
trivial all this seems — how much beneath the dignity of 
rational beings I Bnt trifles make up the sum of earthly 



things ; and* in this instance, this trivial dicomstance 
affects the Princess oi Wales's interests, and therefore 
it becomes of consequence for the tnie statement to be 
made known ; and, as I was present, I can and will tell 
the tnith. — When the coachman attempted to drive 
home through Charles-street, the crowd of carriages was 
so immense it was impossible to pass down that street, 
and with difficulty the Princess's carriage backed, and 
we returned past Carlton-house, where the mob sur- 
rounded her cairi^e, and, havii^ found out that it was 
her Royal Highness, they applauded and huzzaed her 

till she, and Lady [ ], and myself, who were with her^ 

were completely stunned. — ^The mob opoied the carriage 
doors, and some of them insisted upon shaking hands 
with her, and asked if they should bum Carltoo-house. 
— " No, my good people," she said, " be quite quiet — let 
me pass, and go home to your beds." — ^They would not, 
however, leave c^ following her carriage for some way, 
and cried out, Long live the Princess of Wales I long live 
the innocent I &c. &c. — She was pleased at this demon- 
stration of feeling in her favour, and I never saw her 
look so well, or behave with so much dignity. Yet I 
hear since, all this has bem misconstiued, and various 
lies told. 

Smtday, liik. — The park (Hyde Park) was crowded 
with multitudes of spectators, and all the Kings, Emperors, 
and grandees, foreign and English, rode and drove about, 
while the people flocked around them, applauding and 
huzzaing. Princess Charlotte drove round the ring in 
her carriage, and looked well and handsome. What a 
strange and galling sight for the Princess of Wales — ^her 
who ought to be, from her rank, her relationship to some 
of these foreign potentates, and her station in this coimtry, 
the first to be honoured by their attentions, thus to see 
herseU so complete^ cast aside 1 Vftiilst they woe In 



the gay throng in Hyde Park, she drove with Lady [ ] 

to HuDf^tead and Highgate. Lady [ ] told me she 

was very tired of that amusement. 

I dined at Connaught House. The party consisted of 
Mr. and Lady Charlotte GreviUe, Lord Henry Fitzgerald, 
Mr. Bennet, and Mr. Hobhouse. After <Unner a few 
more persons came, and formed a dull stifE circle ; but 
it was good company : therefore, I was pleased to see 
there the Hardwickes, Paulets, Lord and Lady Grey, 
Lord and Lady Dunmore, Lord Nugent, &c., to the amount 
of fifty or sixty persons. Many more really intended to 
come, after having been to Lady Salisbury's, where were 
the Emperor and King, and our mighty Prince Reg^it ; 
but the crowd was so immense, they could not get their 
carriages till morning. 

Monday, 13th. — ^The Princess sent for me', this morning. 
I found her looking big with some news ; but she waited 
till she mastered hereelf before she told^me she had got 
a letter from Lady C. L[iQdsa]y, telling her that she had 
heard positively from Lady Westmoreland, who had the 
inteUig^ice from a quarter that left no doubt of its truth, 
that the Emperor would wait upon the Princess either 
that day, or on Thursday next ; — that she, Lady C. 
L[indsajy, felt certain of its auth^itidty, and, therefore, 
took the liberty of communicating the intention of his 
Majesty to her Royal Highness. The latter was dehghted. 
She gradually gave way to the hope which charmed her, 
and said — poor soul — "my ears are very ugly, but I 
would give them both to persuade the Emperor to come 
to me to a ball, a supper, any entertainment that he 
would choose." 

Well — she dressed, and waited till seven, but no Em- 
peror came. She made me remain with her all the 
afternoon. I did my best to amuse her ; but I am not 
an amusing person at any time — certainly not — neither, 



when I feel sad and sorry, which I did for her Royal 
Highness, can I exert the httle powers I have of being 
diverting. For four hours tt^ether, it was an effort to 
me to try to seem cheerful, when I was thiDking|the 
whole time of whether the Emperor would or would not 
come, and whether the poor soul who sat opposite to me 
would be disappointed or not of the promised pleasure. 
Neither was it possible the Princess should be amused 
or mterested with what I or any one else could have said 
when she was waitii^ for his visit : yet, she endeavoured 
to converse, and to conceal her anxiety. Alas ! I fear 
Thursday will be just such another day of disappointment 
as to-day was. — How cruel to give her a hope that any- 
thing pleasant would befall her, which people are not 
quite sure will take place I Yet the persons who gave 
her this false hope, did not do so with an unkind intention. 
It was her friend who sent her the annoimcement of the 
Emperor's intended visit. — No wonder the Princess says, 
" my friends torment me as much as my enemies." She 
is not the only person who has said and felt thus. I was 
made to stay and dine, and, in the evening, there were 
the old S[apio]s (?) pour tout hien. 

Tuesday, i^h. — ^Lady [ ] told me, that in going 

slowly up a hUl in the course of her drives to-day, a 
decently dressed and respectable looking countryman 
came close to the Princess's carriage, and said, *' God 
bless 5W)u I we will make the Prince love you before we 
have done with him." Another of the same class of 
persons cried out as she passed, " You will soon overcome 
all your enemies." — Such voluntary declarations prove 
that there is a strong feeling prevailii^ in her favour ; 
still, it is not a few kind words uttered by a chance 
person as she passes in her carriage, that can be of 
real use or comfort to her, though gratifying at the 



Wednesday, 15/A. — ^The Princess, Lady [ ] informed 

me, received a note this morning from^Ur. Brandon, 
box-office, Covent Garden, telling her that no box could 
be kept for her Royal Highness at that theatre, as they 
were all engaged. What an answer to the Princess of 
Wales ! — Then arrived a note from Alderman Wood, 
informing her, that if she chose to go to see the monarcbs 
pass in procession to the City, he would have a private 
house kept for her Royal Highness for that purpose. — 
Alderman Wood did not mean to insult her ; it was only 
his vulgarity that induced him to make her such a ludi- 
crous offer. — But what was most vexatious of all these 
vexatious communications was, that the Duchess of 
Oldenburgh and four other ladies were to be present at 
tht dinner. This was galling, and the Princess felt her 
own particular exclusion from this f fite given by the city 
very hard to bear, as she had considered the dty follffi 
her friends. They, however, are not to blame, as these 
roj^ ladies are sdf-invited, or invited by the Regent, 
and the Princess's friends had not time to call a Common 
Council and discuss the matter. — Immediately after this 
bitter pill, came another from Mr. Whitbread, rec<Mn- 
mending her upon no account to go to Drury-lane on 
Thursday evening, after havii^ a few days before desired 

her to go. " You see, my dear," she said to Lady [ ], 

" how I am plagued " ; and, although she mastered her 

resentment. Lady [ ] says she saw the tears were in 

her eyes. " It is not the loss of the amusement which 
I regret, but being treated like a child, and made the 
puppet of a party. What signify whether I come in 
before or after the R^^it, or whether I am applauded 
in his hearii^ or not ; that is all for the gratificatioa of 
the party, not for my gratification : 'tis of no consequence 
to the Princess, but to Mr. Whitbread : — and that's the 
way tfainga'*always go, and always will, till I can leave 
thisvilecountry." — ^Lady[ ]was desired by her Koyal 



Highness to write lier sentiments, with leave to alter the 
mode of expressing them, to Mr. Whitbread and Alderman 

I dined at Ctmoaogbt House the same^day, and the 
Princess was in wonderfully good spiiits consideriogjhow 
much she bad been vexed in the morning. — Sir W. and 
Lady Louisa Call, Lady EUzabeth^Forbes, Mr. Craven, 

Sir W. Gell, and Sir J[ ] BE ] were the party.— I 

had a long coaversation with the latter ; he is a kind- 
hearted, honoura-bje man, but I see he is too good for 
those with whom be bas to deal ; yet, be is not deficient 
in soimd sense or penetration. It ib a pity that he 
indulges too much in the pleasures of conviviality. He 
praised the Princess up to the skies, and said be believed 
her to be " pure as the unsunned snow." — Then he said 
that he hiingftlf had been of the party all the time during 
the story about Maniy, and that once when he {Manby) 
was said to have been in the boat with her, it was he 

himsdf ><Sir J. BO ]), " therefore," added he, " I know 

the falsity of that accusation." He aided by smnming 
up all the Princess's wrongs, and declaring she was the 
most cruelly treated woman in the world. She had been 

telling Sir J[ ] of the city business, the box-keeper's 

message, and Alderman Wood's offer of a private window 
from whence she could see the show pass, and her deter- 
mination of going to the play next Thursday. — " I think," 
said he to me, " unless Whitbread gives her some very 
strong reasons to the ccmtrary, she is in the right to go ; 
but I fancy he has some good reasons, and then she must 
yield. Gad," be added, " ii I were she, and Whitbread 
did not please me, I would send for Castlereagh, and 
every one of th^n, till I found one that did. To tell you 
the truth, I am sorry the Princess ever threw herself into 
the hands of Whitbread ; it is not the staff on which the 
Royalties should lean." — " Ah ! " I replied, " but at the 
tnoBunt he stepped forth her champion and deliverer. 



who was there who would have done as much ? " Sir 

J. B [ 1 does not believe she was at so low an ebb ; 

but he does not know all the circumstances I know, and 
I could not explain them. He has been lately taken up 
as a great friend of the Prince Regent ; and, ever since 
he carried the King of France over, he has been in high 
estimation at Carlton House, and was even made the 
Princess aide-de-camp. " It is but yesterday," said he, 
"that he held both my hands in his, and called me a 
d — d honest fellow." What a pity, thought I, his Royal 
Highness does not imitate you a little, and try to imbibe 
some of your honesty and good-heaxtedness. 

It is droll that there is a vast sympathy between the 
Prince Regent and Princess, in their loves as well as in 

their hatreds. Sir J. B[ ] is an equal favourite with 

them both — as he deserves to be ; for he is not insincere 
or cringing to either of them. I think he is a friend to 
both ; though he sees their respective faults. 

During dinner, a note had arrived from Mr. Whitbread. 
saying, that a box was reserved for her Rojral Highness, 
but that he implored her not to think of going. To this, 

she only ordered Lady [ ] to rejdy, by desiring Mr. 

Whitbread to come to her immediately ; " if he gives 
me good reasons, I will submit," she said to me, but if he 
does not, d — m me, den I go." These were her words, at 
which I could not help snuling ; but she was in no mood 
to smile ; so I concealed the impulse I felt to laugh ; 
for I cannot bear to be of those who wound her. The 
Princess kept us all to supper, and it was past one o'clock 
before we were dianissed. Mr. Whitbread never came. 

To amuse herself is as necessary to her Rojral Highness 
as meat and drink, and she made Mr. Craven and Sir 
W. Gell, and myself, promise to go with her to the masqu- 
rade. — ^She is to go out at her back door on the Uxbridge 
Road, of which " no person under Heaven " (her curious 
phraseology) has a key but her royal self, and we are to 



be in readiness to escort her Royal Highness in a hackney 
coach to the Albany, where we are to dress ! What a 
mad scheme t at such a moment, and without any strong 
motive either, to run the risk 1 — I looked grave when she 
proposed this amusement, but I knew I had only to obey. 
I thought of it all night with fear and trembling. 

Thursday, 16/A. — Mr. Whitbread sent early to-day to 

Lady [ ], to say he was out at Lord Jersey's ball when 

her Koyal Highness's note was sent to him last night, 
and that now he begged to know at what hour she chose 
to see him.— She desired him to be at Connaught House 

at twelve, and Lady[ ]was sent to speak to him for 

a little while, till the Princess was ready to see him. 

I^ady [ ] told Mr. Whitbread how his medicine had 

worked, but that nevertheless she thought it would 
produce the desired effect. Mr, Whitbread said he was 
sorry to have been obHged to write in the peremptory 
manner he did to the Princess. When she came in she 
gave him her hand, but received him rather drily. He 
then informed her who some of the persons were who 
think it best for her Royal Highness not to go to the 
play : he said Mr. Tiemey, Ur. Brougham, and Lord 
Sefton were of opinion, that however much the Princess 
had been applauded, the pubhc would have said it had 
been done at the instigation of Mr. Whitbread, and was 
not the spontaneous feeling of the people ; that the more 
she was applauded, the more they would say so ; and 
that if on the contrary a strong party of the Prince 
Regent's friends, and paid hirelings, were there, and 
that one voice of disapprobation were heard, it might 
do her considerable hann. *' Besides," continued Mr. 
Whitbread, " as the great question about an estaUishment 
for your Royal H^hncss comes on to-Ptorrow, I think it 
is of the utmost importance that no one should be able 
to cast any invidious observation about your forcing 



yoitrself on tha public, of seeming to defy your Royal 
Highness's husband." — In fine, the Princesss was over- 
ruUd. Hr. Whitbread thanked her for her condescension 
in list^UDg to him, and seemed really touched when be 
said, " I trust, madam, you will believe me sincere, when 
I declare that no paity interest whatever sways me in 
this or any other advice I have ever given your Royal 
Highness, nor ever shall, to the detriment of your in- 
terests." T^ Princess, as I am told, bowed coldly in 
reply to this speech, and did not seem to believe Mr. 
Whitbread*s sincerity. — It is not siuprising that she should 
doubt and hesitate before placing ccmfidcoice in any cxie ; 
for she has be^i so often cheated, poor woman I Yet 
I wish she had readied with some degree of answering 
kindness to Mr. Whitbread's assurance that he was 
faithful to her interests. She flung cold water on him, as 
it were, just at the moment when he seemed roused to 
enei^y in her cause. Alas ! how very foolish she is in 
all that ccmcems^her true interests. 

I dined in the evening of the same day with her Royal 

Highness. There was no one present except Lady [ ] ; 

the Princess went to the Opera afterwards with her. I^dy 
C[harlotte] L{indsay] came in during dinner, having been 
to Drury Lane, thinldng she was there. She said she tocdc 
the lib^y of coming to tell the Princess that Princess 
Charlotte had sent for her (LadyC[harlotte] L[indsay]) that 
mtMiiing and had inf cmned her that the Empercn- of Russia 
bad sent to tell the R^ent that he was determined to visit 
the Princess of Wales, and to make his sister accompany 
biw i that he would do so puUicly, to show bis reqiect to 
ber Royal Highness : and that, since the Emperor had 
sent that message, the Prince Regent had not spoken to 
his Imperial Majesty. " Depend upon it, he goes to my 
mother," said the Princess Charlotte to Lady C[hariotte] 
L(indsay], " and I sent for you to inform the Princess not 
to be from bom^." Ijuiy Cibarlotte] LCindsay] added that. 



*' Princess Charlotte led a very dull life, and was extremely 
out of spirits, and considerably hurt at the Prince of 
Orange's going out and diverting himself at allTpublic 
{^aces, while she remained shut up in [sohtud^j and 
that she thought he mi^t have refused going to Cailton 
House unless she was there." 

r The Princess of Wales had been told to-day that^the 
match was off between her daughter and the Prince of 
Orange; but LadyC[harIotte] L{indsay]said, "No, madam, 
I do not believe so at present, but I think very likely it 
will be soon at an end." Princess Charlotte told Lady 
Qharlotte] L{indsay] that when she drives about, the 
mob cry out, " God bless you, but never forsake lyour 
mother." The poor Princess's eyes filled with tears 
when Lady C[harbtte] ^L[indsay] repeated this. She 
has excellent and strmig natural feelings when they are 
stirred ; but in general all her bad feelings are roused, and 
her good ones smothered, by the unkindness and persecu- 
ti<m she meets with. There is no knowing what a different 
person this poor Princess might be, had she the fair play 
of other human beings. The Princess wished Lady 
Qhariotte] Lfindsay], the herald of this pleasant news, 
to accompany her to the Opera ; but her sister was ill, so 
she dedined going. The intelligence she brought reani- 
mated the Princess. Perhaps, it is all a falsehood frcHn 
beginning to end — not of Lady Cpiarlotte] [Lindsay]'s 
inventitm, or of Princess Charlotte's ; she herself maybe 
deceived, or she may deceive for the pleasure of being 
agreeable at the moment. What a total subversion of 
comfort there is, when there is no truth to reet up(m I 
The muMC at the Opera was divine — the house emptyi 
of course. ^ 

■ Priiay, ijtk /ww. — ^Lady [— ] told me, the Princess 
had shown her a letter she bad been writing to Ur. Whit- 
bread, which ihe intended to send, with one she has 



written to Lord Liverpool ; which latter she intends to 
send without asking Mr. Whitbread's advice. The one 
she addresses to himself accounts very plausibly for so 
doing, under the pretext of its beii^ irom motives of 
deticEicy towards him. She says in it, that persecuted 
as she is, life is a burthen to her ; that her s^y in this 
country does no person any good, and that it is worse 
than death to herself. She thanks Mr. Whitbread for 
all he has attempted to do for her, and ends by declar- 
ing her unalterable resolution to quit the country. The 
letter, of course, is not good English, and its mode of 
expression is very strange and entortilU. Nevertheless, 
there is much of that fire and determination in it, which 
are great ingredients in any character, and which she 
possesses. Unfortimately these quahties are not prized, 
or done justice to in women — they are called obstinacy 
and violence, except in some instances — such as in our 
Queen Elizabeth, the Catherine of Russia, and a few 
others, where power made men of them. Otherwise, as 
it is the interest of the stronger sex to subdue women, 
mentally and personally — at least, they imagine that it 
is so — all display of vigorous intellect in them is charged 
with folly, if not with crime. 

Again I dined at Connaught House. There were 
Lord FitzwiUiam, Lord and Lady Essex, Lord Hardwicke, 
Mr. and Miss Grattan. Lord H. Fitzgerald and Lord 
de Roos were to have been of the party, but there was 
some mistake about their invitation, and they did not 
come. Lord FitzwiUiam has dehghtful manners — so 

gentle and so polite — they remind me of my dear [ '\, 

There is a divine expression in his countenance. He is 
shy and rather reserved on first acquaintance, but he is 
not so to such a degree as to make him disagreeable. 
I beUeve Lord Hardwicke is a very good sort of man. 
but he is not so pleasant a peraon, to me, as Lord Fitz- 
wiUiam. I was sorry the Princess did not behave very 



gradonsly to the Essexes : she is alwajrs committing 
some fatal mistakes respecting whom she ought to show 
favour to, and to whom she ought not ; — but she said 
when they were gone, " I cannot like people who take 
me up only because they are displeased with the Regent." 
In this observation, there is much truth ; but, as the 
Princess can play a part sometimes when she chooses, 
I regret that she does not do so in regard to paying 
attention to persons whom it is of consequence she 
should interest in her favour. 

Before the Princess dismissed Lady [ ], Miss [ ], 

or myself, she received a letter from Princess Charlotte, 
telling her mother the match between herself and the 
Prince of Orange was entirely off, and at the same time 
enclosing a copy of a letter she had written to the Prince 
of Orange, in which she alludes to some point of dispute 
which it seems remained unsettled between them ; but 
Princess Charlotte does not precisely name what that 
point was, and chiefly rests her determination of not 
leaving this kii^dom upon the necessity of her remaining 
in England to support her mother. The whole letter 
turns upon the Princess of Wales — ^it is extremely well 
written and very strong. I conclude the words are Hiss 
Knight's, but the sentiments, for the present moment, 
are Princess Charlotte's. This letter gave the Princess 
of Wales a great feeling of affection for her daughter, 
and triumph at her declaring herself determined to 
remain and support her against the Prince Regent. 
But then, on reflection, came the recollection that it 
was calculated to be a great barrier to her going abroad ; 
and, instead of this intelligence being pleasant to her, 
it made the Princess so full of care and thought, that she 
soon dismissed us. I know too much of all parties, to 
believe that Princess Charlotte, in her heart, quarrelled 
with her lover from any motive of real tenderness towards 
her mother. I believe that what the Princess of Wales 


told ttit some flide ago ii perfectly true, namely, that 
her daughter did not at all admire the Prince of Orange, 
and only wanted to be her own mistress ; and now 
finding, I conclude-, that end would not be Einswered by 
marrjring him, she has determined to break off the 
eng^ement. I wonder what will ensue of her doing so. 
The Princess of Wales will not give up the anrasement 
of going abroad ; and, in order to do this, I fear, she wiU 
act foolishly, offend her daughter, atM lose the advantage 
of her support. 



JUNE, Saturday i8th, 1814.— I got a gKmpse of 
my [ ] once more before his departure. He 
looks ill and dejected. The' petty torments of 
the moment, with the hurry and bustle of 
departure, overcome softer regrets, and ^a» under the 
influence of the fonner, one is obliged to put ofE all tender 
feelings to a more convenient opportunity. This habit 
of dioiVniag feeling, when too often repeated, ends by 
hardening the heart ; and those who are constantly 
engaged in the bustle or business or pleasures of life, 
shouU beware of this hardening influence, lest all that 
is noble in character should gradually be dried up, and 
the sources of afiection and humanity totally fail. 

I again dined at Connaught House. There were presen t 
Sir William GeU, Dr. Parr, Mr. Charles Bumey, and Mrs. 
and Miss JR[awdo]n. The two latter did not come in 
till dinner was half over. The Princess (who has con- 
ceived a hatred to Mrs. R[awdo]n because she would hat 
consent to have her only child taken away from her) was 
of course very much ^iraged at this circumstance. At 
length Mis. R[awdon] made Her Royal Highness aware 
that they had been detained by the Princess Charlotte, 
who sent for them to Warwick House, After dinner, 
Mrs. Rfawdon] told the Princess that her daughter had 
received an answer from the Prince of Orange, which the 
Princess Charlotte deems very impertinent. In it, he 
states that he could not write to the Prince Regent, 
and that he only hoped she might never repent her 



determination. Upon which the Princess Charlotte wrote 
herself to her father, and to that letter she has received no 
answer. The Princess Charlotte desired Mrs. R[awdon] 
to communicate this to her mother. This softened the 
Princess's wrath, but not against Hrs. R[awdo3a. B. 
R[awdo]n was of course very happy, and very elated at 
d^cii^ with the Emperor. Tliat was natural. She 
thinks him charming ; which is natural also, whatever 
he may be in reality. Everybody was going to Devon- 
shire House. — The Princess should be grateful to lady C. 
Campbell for baving taken an extra turn in waiting on 
Her Royal Highness at this particular time, as it puts 
her out of everything that is grand and gay.* 
'. The Princess wait to the Opera. She was warmly 
applauded, but there were one or two hisses. However, 
the plaudits conquered, the actors sang, " God save the 
King," and all the house was forced to stand up. The 
Princess went away before the Opera was quite f^ished ; 
which was wise ; and her Rojral ^Highness set down Dr. 
Parr in Woodstock Street, and j, me at my own home. 
When we came to the end of Bond Street we passed a 
state carriage. At first we believed it to be the Regent's ; 
but afterwards we heard it was the Emperor's. I still 
believe it was the R^ent's, as it was surrounded by guards. 
The mob who followed thought the same, and were 

Sunday, igth. — I went to Kensington to hear Sidney 
Smith preach. I was agreeably disappointed by hearing 
one of the finest sermons I ever listened to in my life ; and 

'* * In spite of thia, Harriet, Lady Granville, writes, August g, 1816 
" Lady Charlotte Campbell's daughter [afterwards Lady Uxbiidge] 
who is just come oat, is decidedly, as far as one day's experience of a 
person cao go, the girl 1 should prefer [her brother the Date of I>evaii- 
shire, the beat parii in Er^land] Harfs marrying. She is beautifal 
and dans te meilkur g£it», with the sweetest mauiiers I ever met with. 
Sba is really quite enchantiag." 



I own I had expected nothing but courtly device. The 
Princess had a^ed me some days before if I did not 
think Hr. Sidney Smith a very fine preacher, I answered 
that I thought he might be so, but that I should suppose 
there was a little too much of worldhness and of st^e 
effect in his matter and manner. She was displeased 
when I made this answer, and in like manner angry, when 
I confessed myself to have been touched and ei^ed by 
his sermon. 

I dined at Kensington. Hr. Nugent, Hr. Luttrell, 
Mr. Brougham, Hr. Ward, and Lord King, were of the 
party. The latter is a very dull man. I never met him 
here or anywhere else before, that I remember, nor can 
I conceive why the Princess thought of inviting him. 
She must have some reason ; such as making him useful ; 
for he is nnther ornamental nor agreeable. Ur. Ward 
had on his bleu celeste, both as to his coat and his temper, 
and was certainly very witty and entertainii^ ; and I 
was very well amused till the conversation veered round 
to quizang Hr. Wilberforce. X^rd Kii^ began. He 
said there was a good story about Hr. Wilberforce's 
courtship, and that he had chos^ his wife by her manner 
of passing Easter. Of this they made many jokes, and 
said the learned disputed much about the precise time 
when Easter was. In the evening there was a party ; 
good company, but not much of it ; and moreover very 

Monday, 20th. — I rose early to go and see the great re- 
view in Hyde Park, with my friends K[ ] and B[ ]. 

We saw the show very well, and it was a fine sight ; but I 
could not distingnish any individual person's appearance, 
not even through a glass ; for it was impossible to get 
near enough to any of the great personages. 

LadyC ]told me Hr.Whitbread had written to the 

Piiiuxss of Wales, to ask if he might decidedly mention 



in the House of Conunous that the marri^e was ofi 
between the Princess Charlotte and the Prince of Orange, 
and if he might say that it was so on the Princess of Wales' 

account. Lady [ ], who wrote the answer, told me 

she had v^tmred to desire BIr. Wbitbread only to say 
the first ; for that she thought it wouM have been a 
great breach of confidence in the Princess of Wales, to 
repeat pubhcly what her daughter had confided to her, 
as being her own private feelings ; and that it woiild have 
done the Princess of Wales harm, both witli the pubhc 
and her daughter, if she had allowed Mr. Whitbr^id to 
speak of the Princess Charlotte's letter to the Prince of 

Orange. " Besides," said Lady [ ], to me, " I know 

that Her Royal Highness wrote yesterday to the Princess 
Charlotte, informing her of her resotation to go abroad, 
and telling her that, as things were, they could neither 
of them be of the least use or comfort to the other, and 
that, after all the bitter affronts she dally received, she 
could not longer endure living in this country. — There is," 

said Lady[ ], "much plau^ble cause for all she said, 

bat it should not have been said at this moment ; and 
instead of holding her daughter's power cheap at this 
time, she should have magnified it tenfold. In short, 
I foresee, that instead of quitting the stage with a grand 
effect, and making her recall possible, she will quit this 
country in the worst possible manner, and sink into 
ignominy in a fordgn land. Mr. Wbitbread is still 
purblind as to all this." 

I conclude Princess Charlotte is deq>erately angry. 
She has often behaved ill to her mother, it is true ; and 
the latter is too quick-sighted not to be perfectly aware 
that she does not care three straws for her : but still, at 
present, the 3roung Princess is following a good policy, 
the elder as bad a one. 

I know, and cannot help honouiin^ the feeling tiiat 
has made the I^incessof Wales often say to Lady[ % 

\ Dig,i,z.cbyGoog|c 


" If my dai^hter love me, I love her ; I cannot bear 
those who are ndther one thing nor t'other — neither cold 
nor hot in affection. If she do not care for me, why 
should I wdste love on her ? " — Alas 1 we must often in 
this world be content with aimediimi degree of affection 
from those nearest and dearest to us. It is hard to bear 
Inkewannness in those who oi^t to turn with love 
towards us ; but it is the wisest way to seem satisfied, 
and to assume that affection exists where it does not, 
rather than confess to the world that our kindred or 
friends fail us. The Princess of Wales, above all persons, 
should maintain this appearance of affection between 
herself and her daughter ; for if there be a hope remaming 
to her of future comfort or support, it is in the Princess 
Cbariotte's appearing to protect and care for her. 

Hy friends accompanied me to Westminster Abbey, 
vliiere Mr. Whitbread had promised to get them admitted 
to the Speaker's house, through which it was supposed 
the Emperor would pass, to go to the House of Commons. 

Lady [ ] went with me to the House of Lords. The 

R^ent did not come, nor the Emperor of Russia. There 
were some acts passed, but it was not so fine a show as 
Lady [ ] expected to see. 

The King of Prussia, his two sons, and his nephew, were 
there. His Majesty is a good hkeness of Lord Clifden, 
with a very melancholy expression on his cotmtenance. 
He has a &ie shaped head, and is an elegant, but not a 
dignified looking person. His two sons are little boys"; 
his nephew a fine looking youth. 

Tuesday, zzd. — I dined at Connaught House, and 

accompanied her Royal Highness and Miss [ ] to the 

Opera. The famous Grassini, old to the world but new 
to me, disappointed me. Her voice has no richness ; 
her action is, however, very fine. Like all French women, 
she overdoes a short waist, and makes a caricature of her 



person, which is indeed by nature very graceful. Sir W. 
Gell and Hr. Craven were the only gentlemen in the 
Princess's box. The dislike she has to the latter, and 
yet the jealousy of his paying any attention to Hiss 

[ 1 is quite comical. 

Her Royal Highness told me that the grand Ecajrer 
of the King of Prussia waited npon her, to pay the parting 
compliments of his royal master ) — a heartfelt return of 
gratitude to the daughter of a man who had lent him 
enormous sums of money, and died on the field of battle 
fighting his cause ! Such are courts, and princes, and 
human beings 1 

Wednesday, 2yi. — I went to see a panorama of Vittoria. 
It gave too faithful a representation of a scene of battle ; 
and a stranger, a gentl^anlike looking person, who was 
there, with his arm in a sling, and had be^ at Vittoria 
the day after the battle was fought, said it was most 
exactly pourtrayed. The dead and the dying were lying 
strewn about ; and yet, even in ganng at the representa- 
tion, I s}nnpathised with the enthusiasm of the living, 
and the glory of the conquerors, more than with the 
sufferings of the fallen. How much more must the same 
sentiment be excited by the reality ! how fortunate, that 
this sympathy in catching the spirit which flames around 
us, is so strongly implanted in the human breast ! The 
view, too, of Lord Wellington and the other Generals, 
coolly gazing around, and reconnoitring the evolutions of 
thousands, although involved in smoke and dust and 
danger, gave a grand idea of the qualities necessary to a 
commander, and raised the scale of intellectual glory ten 
thousand times above that of mere personal valour. The 
bravery of the mass of common men is mechanical ; but 
the eye which penetrates, undaunted, amidst the thunder 
of the cannon and the clash of contending steel, to watch 
for the changes of the strife, and seize upon every minor 



advantage which may secure the palm of victory ; and 
the mind which can dictate unmoved whilst death is 
busy around, and who itseU may be the next to fall ; — 
that is the truly great power which commands our homage. 

Lady[ ^whom I accompanied to see the paintii^, 

lamented that the palm of glory is denied to her sex. 
" But not," said she, " the pahn of martyrdom I sufierings 
of a thousand kinds await the bt of woman — her part 
is more truly difficult — it is not to act but to endure." 

Poor Lady [ ], I am sorry for her ; for she is one 

of those imhappy beings who had looked forward to a 
state of felicity such as few — none, perhaps — ever rajoy 
in this world ; and of course she has been disappointed. 
She is sensible, pious — ^not only in feeling but on principle 
— she is resigned, £md strives to do her duty — but it is 
a hard task to teach the heart to be content, when it 
is not so. She is yoimg, beautiful, talented — has many 
friends, many relations, is universally admired — but 
the idol of her love first failed to be what she' had 
imagined him, and now he is dead. Peifaaps another 
m%ht have succeeded to his place in her affections ; but 
he did not try long enough, or earnestly enough. Again 
she has been disappointed ; and now, as she tells me, all 
she seeks is peace. Happiness, she tries to believe, is 
not attainable on earth ; and yet, the hope that it is, 
and that it wilt one day be hers, is strong within her, — 
disturbing the calm of her life, yet, at the same time, giving 
her courage to live. What a pity she is a " Tlte montSe." 

The poor Princess receives dahy affronts : it is really 
admirable to witness her equanimity of temper under 
these trials. She is not without feeling, either. She 
deeply feels the indignities cast upon her ; but she is 
always equally kind and good to those about her, and 
considerate to them, though she might well be absorbed 
by her own sorrows. 

Baron Nicolai was sent by the Emperor with a letter 



tp tbe Princess of Wales, which letter says, that he re- 
gretted extremely not having been able to wait upon H^ 
Royal Highness, but that, under the existing circum- 
stances, delicacy only allowed him thus to express his 

high consideration, &c. The Princess, Lady [ ] told 

me, received H. Nicolai with great dignity and kindness ; 

she was perfectly calm ; and Lady [ ] says she coi|ld 

npt have commanded herself as Her Roj^ Highness 4id. 

When he was gone, she made Lady [ ] copy out her 

letter to Lord Liverpool, which, fortunately, she con- 
sented tp send to Mr. Canning before she sends it to Lord 
Liverpool. ' She is going to give it to Lord Granville L, 
Gower, who is to send it to Mr. Canning. 

I dined at Connatight House. The party was Lord and 
Lady G. L. Gower, Lord and Lady Cowper, Mr. Luttrell, 
Mr. Nugent, and Lady C. Lindsay. There was a very 
good evening party also : Lord H. Fit^erald and Lady 
De Ros, BIr. and Miss R[awdo)i, Lord and Lady Nugent, 
Lady Rancliffe and Lady A. Forbes, Mr. and Lady C. 
Greville, Sec. Everything is turning in favour of the 
fxincess once more, and if she will only have patience, 
she may leave this country honourably ; but if she does 
sp in a hurry, she is lost. 

What a dreadful punishmait is that awarded to Lord 
Cochr^e ! Death would be preferable, I should think. 
He denies beiqg guilty, and a very just and sensible 
man said to me last night, that he doubts Lord Coch- 
rane's guilt. What a terrible doubt for those who have 
pronounced him guUty 1 

Poor Lord Minto* is gone! — I was never to see him 
more in this world. He had .made an amazing fortune 
for himself and his children ;';had returned to pass his 
declining years among, his family and friends, in the ful- 
ness of prosperity ; eind now comes death, and sweeps 
all his plans and hopes into the grave 1 

■ Gov«raor-Genenl •tladU: died June ai. iSi4- 


T^? pIARV op A LADY-IN-WA?T5MG «i 

Thursday, 2^h. — I went to [ % and remained there 

till the 27th. When I retained, I was invited, on the 

28th, to dine at Connanght House. I^ady C[ } and 

Sir W. Gell were with the Princes^. After dinner, she 
ordered travelling beds ; being still determined to go 

abroad. She had been out in Lady C[ fs carriage 

in the morning, and was vastly amused at this httle 
escape from etiquette. 

She was, however, in low spints ; and a letter sho 
received from Mr. Canning did not enliven her. It stated, 
that as she gave for a reason, in the copy of the letter 
die had done him the honoui to send for his perusal, 
that she wishes her situation to be rendered more com- 
fortable, that reason no longer existed now ; since she 
was sure of her establishment being increased ; and it 
went on finally to declare, that the letter she had written 
was by no means one which IJer Royal Highness ought 
to send to Lord Liverpool. The Princess was, of course, 
displeased at Mr. Canning's note, but was not turned 
from her purpose. She said she must speak to Mr. 
Canning, and wrote to b^ he would come to her. Whether 
he will or not, is the question. Her Royal Highness 
dismissed us early. 

Wednesday, 2gth. — I went to call on Lady Glenberyie 
— ^who is going to Spa. Lady C[harlotte] told me she 
has craiseuted to accompany the Princess to Brunswictt, 
where her husband, and her brother, Hr. N[orth], are 
to meet her. Lady Qharlotte] said that, all things 
considered, she thought the Princess was perfectly 
justified in going abroad, but that she hoped Her 
Royal Highness would have patience to wait till proper 
arrangements could be made for her departure, and a 
chamberlain, &c. found to accompany her. 

Again I dined at Connaught House. Sir W. Gell 
brought a Doctor H||ollandJ for the Princess to ludge 



whether she approved of his appearance, &c. as her 
travelling physician. Sir W. G^ guarantees his skiU. 
Dr. H[oUand] has a good countenance and pleasing 
manners ; and he appears clever. I was left to converse 
with him all the evening, and think he is a superior 
person : so at least bis conversation denotes him to be. 

Thursday, ^oth.—Agam Sir W. Cell and I dined at 
Connaught House. During dinner, a letter came (brought 
by a gentleman, as Steinman the page observed) from 
Lord Castlereagh, saying, that through the Prince R^ent, 
he was commissioned to propose, as an increase to Her 
Ro)^ Higbness's establishment, fifty thousand a jrear^ 
and that the amount of her debts was to be laid before 
the House. She received this intelligence without any 
manifestation of joy or surprise, and only said — " C'est 

men droit," as ^e handed the letter to Lady[ ]. 

However, that this news did give her considerable pleasure 
I am sure. Lord Castlereagh's letter was sent to Mr. 
Whitbread at the House of Commons. All the Princess's 
plans seem now likely to be realized. It remains only 
for her friends to hope that, once abroad, she may 
conduct herself in a becomii^ maimer. 

Friday, July 1st. — ^To-day, I was sent for by the Princess, 
in consequence of a letter which she had received from 
Ur. Whitbread, saying that he be^ed to be allowed to 
come to her Royal Highness at two o'clock, and advise 
her upon the steps which were to be taken, relative to 
the offer of fifty thousand pounds in addition to her 
income. He terms the offer " insidious and unhandsome." 
The moment the Princess read this note, she said that 
Mr. Whitbread and Mr. Brougham were again going to 
make war, and to throw aside all overtures towards a 
peaceful termination of the business. She was con- 
siderably annoyed, and walked up and down the room 



several times. At last, she said, addresssing Lady[ ] 

and myself, "Croyex-moi,machire'LaAy{ ]aiid[ ], 

there is only one thing to be done, and I will do it. It 
is not in me to suspect evil till I see it plainly, only to be 
guarded against it. If de Princess refuse, they will say — 
what de devil does de woman want ? we cannot make her 
husband like her, or make de Queen receive her ; but we 
can set de seal upon all our pubhc doings of last year, by 
settling upon her a sufficient sum to enable her to hold the 
rank of Princess of Wales — a rank of which we tink her 
worthy, and wid her rank she must hold all her privileges. 
I will therefore accept — I will ; and I will do it myself." 

She then wrote two excellent letters ; one to Lord 
Castlereagh, the other to Mr. Whitbread. The one to 

Lord Castlereagh, she desired Lady [ ] to " make 

E^lish of,"~-no easy job ; that to Mr. Whitbread she 
allowed to go, as she said, '*in its natural state and 
ridiculous language,"~-but the sense was good. She 
told him she exonerated him from all blame as to the 
issue of the event, and took the whole responsibility 
upon herself. Her answer to Lord Castlereagh was as 
follows : — " The Princess of Wales acknowledges the 
receipt of Lord Castlereagh's letter of yesterday evening, 
and as the proposal contained in it has no conditions 
annexed to it which are derogatory to her rank, her 
rights, or her honour, she accepts it unquestionably, in 
order to prove that the Princess is never averse to any 
proposition coming from the Crown, nor wishes to throw 
any obstacle in the way to obstruct the tranquillity or 
in:q)air the peace of mind of the Prince Regent." I 
write this copy down iiom memory, but it is exact as 
to the meaning, if not as to every word. 

I think the Princess has acted rightly in this instance ; 
especially as her enemies have always said that she 
threw herself into Mr. Whitbread's protection entirely 
to make a disturbance, and did not wish to ameliorate 



her own condition, save at the expense of the Prince's 
honour. This letter will prove the contrary, while at 
the same time, should they make conditions which are 
degrading to her, it will enable her to assert her own 
rights and dignities. But it will be time enough to 
complain, as she sa3rs, when these degrading circum- 
stances are attached to the benefit. 

Mr. Whitt»:ead was surprised and mortified at finding 
what Her Royal Highness had done ; Eind as Lady 

C[ ] told me afterwards, was about to throw the 

Princess qS altogether ; but by degrees he cooled, and 
entered her presence. He expressed bis dissatisfaction, 
but did so mildly, and she explained her intentions. To 
these Ur. Whitbread did not listen, or seem to place any 
faith in them, but said be sincerely wished everything 
might turn out for the best ; there was no saying how 
things oiigfit turn out ; he trusted that he misjudged 
the present case. The fact is, (and perhaps he hardly 
knows the fact himself, for we are all deceived by our 
passions,) fhat Mr. Whitbread does not like the Princess 
should make aU the play herself ; he likes the idea, 
that it is to him, and to the weight of his poUtics, she 
should owe whatever advantages she may reap from the 
present contest. This is nothing against his integrity. I 
believe Mr. Whitbread to be a most upright, kind-hearted 
man ; but he has the notion wl^ich all Englishmen, nay, 
perhaps men of all coimtries, entertain, namely, that 
men only can act on the public stage of life. He has 
imbibed this prejudice with the air he breathes ; and one 
carmot blame him. If I were the Princess, however, 
I would show him the contrary. But. this I would not 
say to 'Her Royal Highness ; let the deed be her^own, 
whichever way it be done. 

SaUtrday, July 2nd, 1814. — I dined at Connaught 
House. SirjrW. Cell, and Mr. CraveOt and the tWQ 



ladies. Lady Qharlotte] Lfindsay] aod Lady C[barlotte] 
QampbeU] were the party. After dinner came on the 
mystery, — ^which was quite unnecessary, but which added 
▼ery much to the amusement. The Princess, in going 
to the Masquerade, took us down the back staircase, 
and out at the back-door from the garden. Hr. Craven 
and Sir W. Gell, and myself, walked with her and the 
two ladies to the Albany. It was a very fine n^ht, 
and Sir William was so amusing, it certainly was very 
good lun. We reached the Albany without adventures 
or detection ; and there we dressed as fast as possible, 
and from thence proceeded to the Uasquerade. The 
danger of exposing the Princess by being myself known, 
took away all the amusement I might otherwise have 
had. On our return, the Princess was so tired I thought 
she never would be able to walk from the turnpike to 
the little door of Connaught House ; and oh I how 
unmercifully Her Royal Highness leant on my arm I 
She did, however, get home, and I hope and think 
without being detected. 

Saimday.—l had been desired to go to the Princess's 
box at the opera ; so I went, though I had much rather 
have remained in my own comfortable seat in the pit ; 
for it is impossible to listen to the music in her box, 
Her Royal Highness talks so perpetually and so loud ; and 
there is seldom any person there I care to converse with, 
or if there is, she mars conversation in every possible way. 

Sunday. — The poor Princess is sadly teased about going 
to St. Paul's, — her advisers insistii^ that she shouid go, 
and all the chamberlains and deans writing word that 
there is no place kept for her, and that it is not in their 
power to give Her Rojral Highness one. " It is ridicu- 
lous to make me always the means of making a disturb- 
ance {or no end whatever," — the Princess said to mc in 



speaking of this bosiness ; and certainly in the present 
instance this remark appears true enough, especially as 
she has no wish whatever except to go abroad. The 
more tranquil her conduct is, the more chance there is 
of bringing her wish to bear. Bnt Brougham, &c. see 
the matter otherwise, and look to another source of 
happiness for her, (if happiness it can be called in any 
way,) and only wish to make her struggle and contend 
for^power and show in this country. 

Lord Henry Fitzgerald, Sir William Cell, Mr. Steuart. 
and myself, dined at Connaught House. The dinner 
was very agreeable, and after dinner stiU more so ; but 
the poor Princess was in dreadfully low spirits. 

Monday, 4M. — I was one of a party which the Princess 
had invited to accompany her to Vauxhall. There was 
no amusement in this expedition ; we were all dull, and 
unable to amuse each other ; and the fireworks were 
but indifferent. Fireworks, pour tout Hen, will not do, 
even for courtiers 1 

Tuesday, 5/A.— Mr. Whitbread told the Princess, in 
an interview he had with Her Royal Highness to-day, 
that although the House had voted her fifty thousand 
a year, he thought it would have a much better effect 
if she would write a letter to the S[>eaker, purporting 
that she did not wish to be a burthen upon the nation, 
and that she hoped they would reconsider the matter, 

and give her only thirty^five thousand. Lady [ ], 

who was present when Mr. Whitbread gave the Princess 
this advice, told me she saw a gloom overspread her 
countenance whilst he was speaking. Her Royal Highness 
is not mercenary ; far from it ; — I believe her to be very 
noble-minded in money transactions : but she conceived 
this proposal not kind from a friend, and tbej[sum not 
more than her due. However, Lady [ ] says, that 



when Mr. Whitbread explained to the Princess that 
fifty thousand pounds would oblige her to remain in this 
country, and spend it where she received it, but that a 
less one would afford her liberty, she fell into the trap, 
and entered into his view of the subject with alacrity. 

Hr. Whitbread then wrote a letter to the Speaker, 
and she copied it, but not without having previously 
written an ill-jadged, useless letter to Lord Castlereagh, 
(which, as Mr. Whitbread said, was not English, and had 
no point in it,) saying, she accepted the proposal, but 

did not name the sum. This, I heard Lady [ ] say, 

she conceived to have more point in it than Hr. Whit- 
bread supposed ; for perhaps she intended it should be 
perceived that her Royal Highness was of one opinion, 
and her advisers of another, and hoped that ministers 
would take the hint and fulfil her wishes. But none of 
these things came to pass, if such mere the Princess's 
intentions. At all events, these underhand, contra- 
dictory movements produced a bad effect. Lord Castle- 
reagh naturally saw through the discrepancy of opinion 
which existed between the Princess and her friends. 

Lady [ ] told me she wept the whole time she was out 

driving. Truly, I cannot wonder, for she is made to 
lead a wretctwd life. Again she said to me at dinner, 
" I know not who plagues me most, my friends or my 

Old S[apio] dined at Connaught House. I was sorry 
to meet him there again, as I had hoped never to do so. 
The Princess treats him with a comical mixture of pro- 
tection and scorn, which is very unlike what she ought 
to do in either way. 

Monday. — Lord D[ ] called on me, and asked a 

great many questions about the Princess. I was cautious 
in my replies, for I know him to be one of the Regent's 
foadits, and I have ever had reason to suspect him as 



one of His Royal Highness's spies on the Princess. Yet 
for all this he enjoys a laugh at his Royal Friend's ex- 
pense, and pulled out of his pocket some very abominatde 
verses, which he called ** capital," and desired me to 

read. He said they were written by Miss [ ]. I do 

not bdieve that they are, and I agked leave to copy them, 

I shall show them to Lady [ ], who is Miss [ Js 

friend, and will be able to contradict Lord D[ Js 

statement, if it be incorrect ; which I am inclined to 
think it is, and that the verses are his lordship's own 

Pow le igr Stick. 

Soyez bien grasse, ayez cinquante aos ; 

B^ucoup de gorge, et bien du clinquant ; 

Uo air dMaigneux, im fils l^he et rampant ; 

Un grand nigand de man, bas et complaisant : 

Et voil& de quoi plaire un magnanime R^ent I 

I received a letter from [ ]. She says : — 

I do not see the slightest chance of our ever meeting again ; 
which makes me honibly melancholy ; e^tedally as I pulled 
three strong grey hairs out of my head this morning. Silas I 
la fteur de ma jeunesse est passiaf — and as much in vain in 
point of pleasure, as in a moral sense 1 When I think how 
fast it is flying, my soul makes a kind of clutch to get away 
and make a little more use of life ; to see foreign countries 
and enjoy a little of real pleasure ; not your dull London 
pleasures, where you have much ado to keep your chin above 
the water of neglect and insignificancy ; where people forget 
you the moment you are out of sight, and where all the charms 
of society and the refinements of gallantry are out of the 
question ; but the gay, brilliant pleasures of a foreign capital, 
or the sylvan delight of a southern clime, under brighter skies 
and with more animating avocations. 

You win sympathise with me in this, though you do not 
in most things, and think me but a wretched dry bones, inside 
as well as out. Who was it that said, " Si je n'etois pas voire 
ami. le serais voire ennemi ?" I suppose yon say that of me. 



You wonderful flighty enthusiastic people have greatly the 
advantage of sober diy mortals Kke me ; for we envy and 
admire you, though we may sometimes think you a little 
absurd ; while the very best of us you think abominable, 
though you sometimes allow us to be wise. Don't you think 
I am very fveillie to-day ? No wonder ! It is the influence 
of Spring. Yesterday, when I got up, the first object that 
met my eyes was the ground as white with snow, as if it 
bad b^ the first of January ; — not a powdering, but an 
honest thick fall of snow, which is not gone off to-day ; and 
the clouds are now doing their best to gather a fresh supply. 

How I glory in the Princess's vindication to the eyes of 
all men I and how I am gratified at the complete mortification 
of her vile persecutors, &om the biggest to the least. I wish 
she had her foot upon all their necks. It makes my blood 
turn to think of llie degeneracy of peojde's feelings, their 
Eoean inventions, their pitiful, careful susfndons, and selfish- 
ness. Do you remember Mr. Burke saying, he believed that, 
formerly, a thousand swords would have leaped from their 
scabbanls to defend the Queen of France ? — ^which leaping, 
by-the-by, has been much quizzed by dull people like me. 
ITtiere is in England but one tongue that will wag io her 
behalf ; yet, shame on them, there's hardly one whose heart 
and mind does not speak in her favour. Sneaking bodies I 
The days of chivaliy are past ; that of econonusts, calculators, 
and infidels is come ; and the glory of Europe is extinguished 
for ever t O dull, degenerate Englishmen I If tb^ is a 
spark of good feeling left. It is in the mob, ^o give her 
their acclamations, since no other atonement is made to her. 
The English are a noble nation en masse, an odious people 
individually. Don't you think so P 

Adieu 1 Ever yoms, [ ]. 

July ist. — ^At length I have been able to arrange my 
afEairs, so as to be free to leave England, and go where 
I like. I have provided foi: one or two old servants ; 

have seen [ ] settled in an excellent and profitable 

employment ; and lastly, a sad reason enables me to 
quit home without one r^fret — ^my dear old aunt is 
dead. She died a fortDight ago ; since which time I 



have not been able to write down a word. Though her 
great age ana long illness might hav^ prepared me for 
her loss, they did not ; and when she was gone, I felt 
as if her death was an untimely one ; and my grief was 
reat in proportion. She was my last near relation : * 
aow I can claim no nearer kindred with any one than 
cousinship. There is something very sad in this feeling. 
However little our relations may suit us, however much 
they may difier from us in tastes and pursuits, still there 
is a tie in consanguinity which nothi^ can ever break. 
We may live apart, and be long absent from them, but 
nothing except death can put an end to the natural 
affection which God has ordained between near relations. 
Well — she died blessing me, my dear old aunt ; and 
I feel much pleasure in thinking I endeavoured to be a 
comfort to her. I have fulfilled all her orders to the 
minutest point, and now I can gratify my long-cherished 
wish of travelling in foreign countries. 

To-day, I received an entertaining droll letter from 
Sir W. Gell, whom I had commissioned to find me a good 
travelling servant. He speaks of the Princess as follows : — 

As to favour with both Mr. and Mrs. Tliompson, that 
is out of the question. I was drubbed for executing my 
commissions in the aphrodisiac way, in such style ; but you 
are not to suppose that crowned heads are capable of distin- 
guishing such superabundant talents. On the contrary, my 
constituents see my merits, and the Univeisity confers the 
horrors — I mean honours ; for they will not let princes do 
anything of the kind in mere gaiety of heart, but all is done 
through the ministry. Keiq>el Craven returns in the first 

week of June ; Mrs. P[ ] is going to Worthing, to see Lady 

C. Campbell ; and so is Hr. Enutson, or Canuteson, to prevent 
the sea from flowing, as his ancestor, Canute the Great, did. 

As to Mrs. D[ ], you know, when you are gone to 

France I shall have a fine opportunity of retorting all your 

maUce and your sallies, and I can trust to the lady in question. 

■ This is, apparcotly. an addition, " by way of disguiae." 



I seem banished from Thompson House, but she has a triumph 
at Boodle's ten to one. The balls at White's and Co. seem 
in a languishing state, but London is furiously full of parties 
and suppers. Only to give you an idea of what I was engaged 
to go to last night : — Dinner, Mrs. Lock, 2000 virgins ; Lady 
Douglas, music ; Mrs. Davenport, christening ; Devonshire 
House, supper ; Lady Salisbury's. I do not pretend to 
send you anything entertaining, as we write on business. 

My dear [ ], 

Your affectionate grandmother, 

John Julius Angerstein. 

P.S. The signature will quite exasperate Mrs. A[ "]. 

Tell her I am writii^ a pampldet by the desire of the Classica 
Journal, on Troy. 

Om board thb [ ]. Ca»iaiw [ ], 

Oneo'eloek, isth July, 1S14. 

The only ardent wish I have formed for these last two 
jrears, is now fulfilled — I am on the ocean, on my way to 
the Continent. There is always a degree of doubt, nay, 
almost of awe, in the fulfilment of our wishes ; since 
experience has sadly warned us how often we have 
wished erroneously, and how little we know what to wish 
for. Yet at this moment my sensations are pleasurable. 
The sun is gaily shining : it withdrew for a moment, as 
we slowly glided out of the harbour at Dover ; for a 
moment, too, a doud of tender regret for what might 
have been, stole across my mind ; but the recollection 
that it is not, quickly resumed its power, and a feeling 
of pride and pleasure succeeded, that I was going to new 
scenes which would occupy and change the current of 
my thoughts. Perhaps, like a person excited by fictitious 
means, I may sink hereafter ; but the present moment 
is buoyant with renovated hope. 

I regretted not being able, jresterday, to visit the 
shrine of Thomas k Becket at Canterbury, where hypocrisy 
paid the price of its vice by blood, and superstition 



trembled in its turn, for having dared to usurp the power 
of Heaven to punish. 

The country we traversed is rich but monotonous ; 
the peace and wealth which seems diffused over its un- 
dulating scenery, lulls, instead of rousing the mind. 
The goodness of the roads, horses, and inns, leave one 
nothing to complain of in respect of the animal enjoyments 
of existence. The bustle of Dover, its dirt and noise, con- 
vey a thousand ideas to the mind, but scarcely impress 
one of those ideas distinctly. Its white cliffs, and bold, 
bare shore, seem to dare the inroad of any hostile invader, 
and they recall a sensation of pride to every British heart, 
which makes it swell at being English. Every inn was 
full, but I found room, at length, at The Skip. The 
quantity of travellers, and concourse of carriages, had 
the appearance of a f4te. 

Calais, five o'clock. — We had a fine passage — only two 
hours and fifty minutes — but having arrived within a 
mile of the shore could get no further, the tide being 
low. Our captain (rather perfidiously, I think) advised 
all the passengers to get into a pilot boat, in preference 
to waithig till eight or nine at night, and we consented. 
We paid through the nose, about 3/. sterling, for this 
operation, and for the noise and torment of the people 
who came round us, and laid hold of the ladies — ^hauling 
them out, and nearly tumbling them into the water, 
laughing and screaming the whole time. We lauded, 
however, safely, but not soundly ; for we were all sea 
water and sand. We had then to walk two miles, partly 
over sand, and then to climb up the wooden quay, which 
extends a great way into the sea. Some of the passengers 
found this rather difficult, especially one fat lady who 
had very short legs. All these inconveniences were to 
me' however, ccunpensated for by the novelty of eveiy 
obje ct which met my view. I longed to draw everything 


I saw, and to stop and gaze at the shops, people? 

While on board, I talked to the mate ; his name was 
Hetherden ; he had one of those happy countenances 
which at once bespeak one's confidence in their honesty, 
and obtain it. He told me, that the i8th of February, 
1807, he was wrecked o£E Boulogne ; the night was so 
cold and stormy that one man was froze to death, standing 
erect on the deck. They fired guns of distress in vain. 
As he commanded the vessel, he would not leave her, 
to take to the boat, till every other soul was saved, 
except four men who would drink, and who went down 
below into the cabin and perished. He himself was 
rescued at last, however, and well received by the French, 
though taken prisoner; and all the English were well 
treated. Some of their officers behaved shamefully, 
smd offended the people. Hetherden added, " they forgot 
they were in an enemy's country, and insisted upon all 
sorts of unreasonable demands." 

Quillacq's Hotel, Saturday. — I went to the play last 
night, and heard some very good music, and not bad 
acting ; but the quickness of the recitation, and the 
loudness of the singing, had something of caricature, or 
at least appeared so to my organs, unaccustomed to 
such performances. They acted three different pieces : 
La preuve ViUageoise; Le Manage i'une heure ; and 
Les Pritendues. The music of the first was old, but 
pretty. The second I never heard before ; there were 
some beautiful trios in it ; but the character of the com- 
positicn was more brilliant and buoyant than touching ; 
pathos belongs to the Italian alone, some few Scotch and 
Irish airs excepted. There were five En^ishmen in the 
box where I sat, mute and grave, till I made them speak 
by asking them questions. The person to whom I 



addressed myseli was a Mr. Davies ; and Lady H[ ]'s 

son, Mr. C{ ], sat behind, and fell asleep in spite of 

my eloquence. I was well amused, however, but happy 
to go to rest, being very tired. Monsieur Culier was 
excessively civil. 

Left Calais to-day at one o'clock. Just before I 
stepped into my carriage, I^dy Hamilton — the Lady 
Hamilton I had seen twenty-five years ago, at Naples* — 
sent me a message to say, that one who had known me 
long and well, and dearly loved those I loved [what a 
prostitution of the term ! ] wished to see me again. 
Yet, poor soul, I was sorry for her, and a mixture of 
curiosity and sadness made me desire to see her once 
more. I went to her apartment — time had marred her 
beauty, but not effaced it — and when I said " ioujours 
belle" a smile of pleasure reanimated her fine eyes. My 
compliment was not altogether tmtrue, although it was 
a little more than reality : but such reality is not worth 
adhering to. Her eyes were filled with tears : she said 
the remembrance of the past crowded upon her, and 
excited them. She talked agreeably, and spoke of her 
own fate. In mentioning the child f she brings up, 
she assured me it was not her own, nor could be. When 
anybody assures me of a thing that may be true, and 
is favourable to themselves, I always believe them. 
It may be silly, but I cannot help it. Nor do I wish 
to have that wisdom which makes one doubt one's 

Beween Calais and Hautbuisson the country is flat 
and uninteresting ; inclosures, and these are merely 
ditches, but no hedges ; indeed it is chiefly marsh. The 
soil seems very poor, and yet they do not spare maniu'e. 

* The Duchesa of Argyll was formerly at Naples with Lady Chariotta 
Campbell, and not only received Emma Lyon, but was one of the 
chief persons in exhorting Sir William Hamilton to marry her. This 
he did in 1791. 

t Horatio Nelsoo Thompson. Mra, Ward. 



Crops are chiefly wheat, oats, and artificial grasses. 
About a mile from Hautbuisson we reached an ascent, 
from which there is a sylvan view into a valley. The 
cottages are well built, generally of stone ; some of 
them very neatly thatched — a short close thatch, unlike 
ours, but full as neat. There is a bareness of population 
and a paucity of houses which, to an Engl^h eye, is 
melancholy. The first enlivening object or appearance 
of husbandry 1 beheld, was a woman helping a man to 
spread dung. She seemed to set about the occupation 
con amore. The roads are capital. I hardly found out 
they were pavis. There are mounds of gravel and small 
stones placed in piles on each side of the road, ready 
for use. 

The next village after Marquise is Bois Gagnon Huit- 
mille, situated in a glen. From an elevation in the ground 
just before we came to Boulogne there is a fine view of 
the sea. At Huitmille I ate some of the nicest bread 
I ever tasted. I arrived at Boulogne at half after six ; 
it is a fortified town, situated on the mouth of the 
Lianne, in a narrow valley that opens to the sea. It 
has a melfuicholy appearance ; but perhaps the gloom 
of a very rainy day gave me this impression. The inn 
is called Hotel d'Angleterre ; and it deserves the name, 
if deamess is one of the attributes of an English hotel. 

I walked round the Ville Haute, upon the ramparts, 
in spite of the rain, from whence I saw the hill where 
Bonaparte had organized the army with which he 
threatened to invade Britain, and which he afterwards 
led to the more easy conquest of Germany. I saw also an 
immense wooden tower, that was visible from Huitmille, 
and that looked like representations I have seen of the 
large wicker baskets in which Druids burnt their victims.* 
This tower was only a skeleton of what was afterwards 

■ What the writer aaw yna doubtless the scafiolding which was 
prapared for erecting the preaeot column. [Onginal note.] 



to be executed in stone. The garfon dt la matson, who 
was my cicerone, took pleasure in relating that some 
stones had been already placed, which it had required 
forty horses to move. "// faUoit Uen qu'ils fussent 
des grandes pierres, celles la." To which I assented. 

Mr. Dillon, the seccaiore, had discovered me, and was 
very civil, and walked and talked till I was dead tired 
of him. He told me, what I had observed the day before to 
be in some degree true, that there is much wavering in 
the people's minds, and that they have received their 
King with great indifference. 

I left Boulogne, Sunday, the 17th of July. — The river 
Liaime winds through a fertile valley, and the aspect of 
the country is more agreeable. Further on, from an 
eminence, there is a fine view of a rich and wooded 
country ; to the right, in the distance, there is some 
ground which has the appearance of having been a Roman 
camp. About seven miles from Boulogne there are two 
avenues leading to an old chateau, about which there is 
an air of romance. The quiet grey of the stones, and the 
dullness of the scene, conspire to make one suppose a fair 
lady may live there, shut up with some old guardian — or 
worse — married to some hateA lord. The trees which 
form the avenues are too closely planted, yet their 
chequered shade seems to invite to calm enjoyment and 
meditation. I admire avenues. How prejudicial the 
love of what is fashionable is to real taste 1 how much the 
inherent passion for novelty, when too far indulged, 
contributes to deteriorate from all that is truly great I 

I arrived at [ ], at seven o'clock — a comfortable 

inn. The master spoke the best English I ever heard a 
foreigner speak. I fancied he was English at first, but 
he told me he had not been in England for twenty-five 
years, and had ^remained at Samaces, doing what good 
he could, and saving the lives of several peisons during 
the war ; for which he had never received the smallest 



remuneration, though they were all, with one exception, 
people of good fortune, find were now again estabUshed in 
their possessions. 

The country beyond Samaces is rich and well cultivated. 
I know not if it is the effect of novelty, the too great love 
of which, I contemn ; but I cannot help fancjriog that the 
absence of all enclosures gives a vastness to the prospect. 
There is a curioiK sort of dark coloured marl, a few inches 
below the surface of the soil, which is used as manure. 
The women's dress is picturesque : either they tie up their 
hair in a conical shape, to the top of their heads, or wear 
caps with a high caul, and plaited wings of a large and 
oval form, which fly backwards and forwards, giving a 
characteristic and strange appearance. This, with bril- 
liant coloured aprons, short petticoats, and some instru- 
ment of agriculture in their hands, forms a picture which 
requires only the artist's power to embody. 

I reached Montreuil a quarter after three o'clock. Peat 
is made in the neighboiu-hood. Wheat seems almost 
ready for the sickle, and yet at Boulogne they complained 
it was so cold that the fruits ofthe season were not ripe. 
At Montreuil I went to the principal church ; they were 
performing high mass ; the chief magistrates and con- 
stituted authorities of the place came in to sing Te Deum 
for peace. The sound of the drum, and the sight of armed 
men, drowning the voices of the priests, and walking up 
in martial order to the altar, was an awful sight, and 
brought back the remembrance of the reign of terror. 
I shuddered involimtarily, and it was not till I heard the 
persons around me repeatedly say, " C'est pour la faix — 
c*est pour la paix," tiiat I could get rid of the painful 

It is not true — at least it is not true now — that the 
lower order of cathohcs mutter their prayers in an un- 
known tongue. I borrowed a ritual of the service from a 
poor girl, in which the psalms, and other portions of 



scripture, were translated in the mother tongue. On 
the one side was French, on the other Latin. 

Near Montreuil they hoe the potatoes with a clever 
machine, drawn by one horse, which runs along the earth 
like a ploughshare, with wheels sufficiently wide to cover 
three furrows, while the plough acts only on the middle 
one. We passed through a small but pretty and com- 
fortable looking village. I observed there is a quantity 
of wood about the country. Hurdles are particularly 
neatly made. I coveted them for Dovenest. Dovenest ! 
when, if ever, shall I be there again ? I slept at Bemay, 
at the Fleur de Lis, the best of the two bad inns : dirty 
beds and floors ; but what signifies for a night or two, 
when one is in health ? 

Monday, iSth Jidy. — I left Bemay early. What a 
wonderful extent of country ! no part is imcultivated, 
and yet there is often no habitation to be seal for miles. 
I saw two men labourii^ in a field to-day ; it is quite 
an event in the landscape. This vast tract of country, 
covered with the abundance of all which is necessary to 
animal existence, but deficient in all that is beautiful, 
would be insufferably dull and uninteresting, did not a 
certain feeling of its greatness interpose : it seems as if 
it sufficed to itself alone, and that it must ever continue 
to do so. This, in the natural as in the moral world, is 
the greatest attribute with which human intellect can 
invest the objects of its contemplation. 

I dined at Flicour, a miserable inn, and was served by 
two women scarcely human in their appearance. There 
were several pretty views from FUcour to Amiens. I 
reached the latter place at seven o'clock. It is a melan- 
choly looking town, no appearance of trade or bustle, but 
groups of soldiers of different nations idling about, and 
reminding one too much of the cause of this stagnation in 
commerce, this silence, and this gloom. 



I went out immediately to see the cathedral. It is of 
gothic architecWe, and is the finest in that style which I 
recollect ever to have seen, not excepting Westminster 
Abbey ; for although the latter is much lai^er, and in 
detail may be more magnificent, I do not think it so 
imposing as a whole building. The sun was setting, and 
we could not for some moments distinguish each par- 
ticular feature, but its general effect was grand in the 
extreme. Who that has a heart, bat must feel inspired 
by such temples and worship : 

What though a difierent law command 
A difierent worship in om* land. 
That soul is torpid which has felt 
Unmoved, where other knees have knelt. 

The pure homage of the heart is holy in all places ; but 
in such a temple as this even the impure might feel the 
presence of God. 

One poor woman, covered with a thick veil, knelt in 
deep concwitrated prayer. The person who showed me 
the cathedral lowered his voice to a whisper, as he ap- 
proached her ; he felt that she was in silent communion 
with heaven, and that the tongue of man should be hushed. 
Hy cicerone was a decent conversible person. When I 
asked him how the church had escaped destruction, he 
replied that it had happened almost miraculously, but 
that it had not escaped pollution, for scenes of horror 
had been enacted within its walls. Much of the carved 
work has been mutilated, and the temple, said he, has 
been otherwise desecrated. " Although I speak," he 
added, " before the altar of God, I have seen a common 
prostitute brought in a sort of triumph, and carried upon 
men's shoulders, to be set on that holy altar. Oh I they 
were times which it makes one tremble to think of. But 
during the whole of that reign of terror I alwaj's used my 
own language to say Citoyenne ; and tutoyer was then the 




law, but I always said ' Monsieur ' et ' Madame.' " 
" How did you then contrive to escape the guillotine ? " 
" Ah I " he replied, shrugging his shoulders, " On parle des 
miracles du temps de nos p^es, et on se moque si on dit 
qu'il y en a de nos jours ; mais c'est la foi seule qui nous 
manque ; il y en a tous les jouis." 

I was touched with this man's conversation : there 
was DO cant or mummery in it, but it was sensible and 

I left Amiens, Tuesday, 19th of July. There is a beau- 
tiful natural wood, chiefly of beech, about four miles 
from Amiens ; but in other respects the country is flat 
and insipid until you reach BretenvUle, where stand the 
remains of an ancient archway, of pleasing proportions. 

I arrived at Paris, Thursday, the zist of July. The Port 
St. Denis gives a grand appearance to that entrance of 
Paris ; and the long and ma^ificently broad road which 
leads to it, gives an air of grandeur that om- English capital 
cannot boast. The busy streets, the concourse of people, 
and the wonderful tissue of events which have recently 
happened in this metropolis, all conspire to fill the mind, 
and to crowd it with a superfluity of thought ; the 
difficulty is to arrange and combine ideas, not to create 

I went in the evening to the Opera Comique, Rue 
F^ydeau. It is the prettiest salon imaginable. Lai^ 
pillars of marble, or what seems to be marble, support the 
boxes ; the pit rises in a species of amphitheatre ; and 
the drop curtain is the handsomest I ever saw : it is 
painted in imitation of blue velvet, covered with goldai 
fleurs de lis ; the crown on a ball, which seems embossed 
in the middle, and the drapery very grand and simple in 
its folds. I never saw anything in better taste than the 
whole of this theatre. The performances were Le Caliph 
de Bagdad, L'Habit du Comte De Gtammont, and Le 
Nouveau Seigneur du Village. I came in at the end of the 



first piece ; the two latter were very entertaining, and the 
music was exceedingly good ; the people all singing in 
time and tune, but louder than my ears are accustomed 
to ; indeed, they seem to vie with one another, who shall 
make most noise. The principal actor and actress were 
excellent performers, but the whole corps executed their 
parts umformly well, and perhaps this has more power 
upon the general effect of the performance, than one 
transcendant actor could possibly convey. No vulgar 
misconception or defect, in any of the subordinate players, 
broke the charm of the illusion. There was an exquisite 

duet in the last piece. I met my friend Mr. C^ ], 

which gave me great pleasure ; I felt as if I had not seen 
him for years, so glad was I to meet an English friend. 

Friday, July 22nd. — I went to the Louvre with Mr. 

C[ ]. I have not time or power to enter minutely into 

this stupendous emponum of all that is fine in the arts. 
I gazed once more at the undying beauties of the immortal 
Venus. I felt a spark of inspiration emanate from the 
divine Apollo. Again the marble breathed before me, 
and genius once more entered my soul, with all its vivify- 
ing power. A young Bacchus, by some better designated 
as the Genius of Sadness, fixed my attention, and rooted 
me to the spot. Seen from where I stood, there is a 
tenderness in the countenance, a refined expression of all 
that is soft and sad, and yet dignified, in the half-closed 
lip ; the hand too seems indicative of placid reflection, 
the arm negligently thrown over the head, as if the soul 
had abandoned itself to fancy, and the body rested while 
the mind was far away in the excursive r^ons of imagina- 
tion. The dying Gladiator, subdued by death, not con- 
quered by his mortal adversary ; the fighting Gladiator, 
his muscles swelling with the tension of strei^th ; and 
above all these, Diana, the light, the chaste, the cold 
Diana, " her buskin gemmed with morning dew," scorn 



sitting with grace upon her Up, and all the grand severity 
of an un)nelding nature clothing her airy well-poised figure. 

It is vain to attempt a further description of countless 
beauties, and of all the ideas they create. To live at 
Paris for a length of time, and go every day to the Louvre, 
and see these exquisite conceptions of unrivalled art, 
would light the dullest soul to taste the joy which genius 
can impart, and raise the grovelling mind to a standard of 
greatness to which it would otherwise never attain. 
Time and circumstances tore me away. 

I went to the magnificent gardens of the TuUeries"; 
and although the buildii^ is heavy from its magnitude, 
it is not devoid of grandeur. The formal parterres, the 
statues, and fountains, are well adapted to the decoration 
of a palace, and from the very idea we form of the labour 
and art necessary to their formation, they convey no 
unpleasing sensation to the mind, — whidi is always 
gratified by every proof of the power of that of others. 
As a place of pubUc resort it is charming, from the alternate 
variety of sunshine or shade, the sweet smell of the flowers, 
and the profusion of chairs and benches, which in our 
gardens are so scantily provided, and which the English 
pubHc take such pains to destroy and disfigure. There 
certainly never was a country which had so little respect 
for pubhc monuments or property, and so little love for 
the arts, as England. 

I visited Lady Westmoreland,* and she made me 
accompany her all over the town. She went to every 
shop on the Boulevards. The variety and beauty of all 
materials for ladies' dress far surpasses our wares, and 
Lady Westmoreland says they are cheaper. Nothing 

* Jane, daughter uid co-heir of R. Hack SauDden, Esq., H.D.,muTied 
(as second wife), iSoo, John Fane, Earl of Westmorland. On the 
death ^ 1B41) ol her husband. Lord Clarendon wrote to Lady <kan- 
ville : " Lady Westmoreland is at the Bedford Hotel at ^ighton, 
and has told the waiter that she means to be a disconsolate widow, 
and is determined never to be happy again." 



offends me in the Parisian ladies' toilette, except the grace- 
less height and inunensity of their bonnets, which are 
perfect disfiguration. How can they admire their statues, 
and then endure to look at each other ? 

I met the Due de Coigni, and asked him if he knew 
Madame de Coigni, with whom I had an appointment, 
and was going to pay my respects to her. He told me 
she was his son's wife, and divorced from kim / What a. 
blunder of mine ! 

I was not able to get to the Opera till it was half over. 
It was La Jerusalem DUivrie. As to the spectacle, it 
exceeds praise ; every scene is a picture, not merely from 
its scenic perfection, but from the groupii^ of the persons, 
and the nice attention paid to the most subordinate 
figures ; those who remain chiefly in distance being clad 
in quiet colours, to aid the deception ; and the prompti- 
tude and precision with which aU the changes are con- 
ducted, render it almost a magical deception. The 
dancing too is the danc^Qg of fairies and graces ; there is 
not merely one or two fine dancers, but six or eight, all 
vying with each other. The last scene, of the Christians 
praying in the temple, and the falling of the walls, and the 
entrance of Godfroy, and the prayers, and illuminated 
heavens, with the ghosts of the departed, and choirs of 
angels, &c., is almost too beautiful and awful. I felt my 
very flesh creep. What a wonderful people these French 
are, to make one feel so much, and to feel themselves 
so httle. I was with Lady Westmoreland, and to my 
surprise Mr. J[ ]e came into her box. 

Saturday, zyd. — I went to Versailles. On my way 
there I traversed a great part of Paris, and was much 
struck with the magnificence of the city. I crossed the 
end of the Ttuleries, and passed along the Seine. The 
last bridge, built by Bonaparte in commemoration of the 
battle of Jena, called the Pont de Jena, is of beautiful 



and chaste arcbitecture, and surpasses all the other 
bridges. St. Cloud is situated on the side of an aninence, 
which overlooks Paris, and is covered with villas. At its 
base the river winds in a graceful curve. I could not gain 
permission to see Versailles, because workmen were busy 
in making repairs ; so I went to St. Cloud. There is an 
avenue of approach, half a mile in length, to the palace, 
the exterior of which has no particular excellence, but its 
site is truly magnificent, commanding a view of Paris 
and the adjacent country, which is well worth seeing. As 
I traversed its shady alleys and entered its courts, a tide 
of recollections crowded upon my mind. So lately the 
footsteps of a great usurper trod the paths which now 
I trod, and after the revolutionary storm had rolled in 
tremendous retribution over the scenes where luxury and 
pleasure had misruled. Providence has once more restored 
them to their rightful possessors, after having humbled 
them to the dust. What a lesson to humanity 1 

The views here surpass description. The omamrats of 
the interior of the palace are handsome, and the gallery 
is fine, but too narrow, as most galleries are. 

There was a picture by a young artist of the name of 
Guerin, the sul^ect Phralra and Hippolitus. I thought 
the conception of it was good, and there was more of 
simple grandeur in the composition than is generally 
seen in the French school. Bonaparte's bed-room pos- 
sessed a strange and fearful interest ; I saw Richud's 
tent in this voluptuous bed, and I thought how vain was 
zlII the down which invited to luxurious repose. How 
much more deeply was this idea impressed on my mind, 
when we were informed that two attendants slept in each 
of the adjacent apartments ! 

From St. Ctoud I went back to Versailles, to visit 
Trianon, a very delightful nmsoH de flaisance, contiguous 
to the greater palace. There are many subjects of in- 
terest there. Those which struck me most wae two 



pictures ; one of Venus silencing the Loves, lest they 
should disturb the sleep of Adonis ; the other, of Fortune 
flying over the world. The first is said to be by Giordano, 
and its conception and mellowness, its grace and glowing 
beauties, give assurance of its being genuine. The latter 
has a peculiar pur^e colouring, which I could not wholly 
approve, but the round and palpable fimmess of the form, 
and its grace, commanded admiration. I proceeded to 
the lesser Trianon, interesting only from its having 
belonged to the unfortunate Marie Antoinette. An old 
German Swiss showed us this garden. He bad been one 
of the Guards, and escaped the general massacre miracu- 
lously. I be^ed him to tell me how. " Ah I " said he, 
"il me faudroit quinze jours pour vous le dire." He 
clasped his hands together, and appeared truly imbued 
with a deep and painful remembrance of those times. 
One could only respect his feelings, and restrain one's 

I do not recollect ever to have been so fatigued as I was 
to-day in walking back to Versailles ; and yet the warmth 
which kills others animates me. When I returned home 
I found several invitations, one to a Madame de Vaudre- 
mont. I went to see Lady Westmoreland, and met there 

Lord B[ ], Madame deCoigni, and Sir Robert Wilson.* 

The latter seems very good-htunoured, but such a decided 
Englishman, and so loaded with prejudices, I wonder 
why he leaves England. When I spoke of the grandeur 
of Paris, he said he did not know ; the generality of 
streets were so narrow and dirty, that he should think 
more of Swallow Street ever after. This was enough for 
me. I thought he should return as fast as possible to its 
delights. In the evoiing, just as I was going to bed, 

• Sir Robert Thocoas Wilson (1777-1849). He was a distiiigimhed 
soldier in the Peninsular War. la the disputes between Geoi^ IV. 
and his wife he became a distinpiiahed " Queenite," and was dismissed 
from the army for bis coodnct at the Qneen's fnnenJ, He was later 



Mr. J[ ]e came to see me. He is another of the same 

true John Bull breed. 

Sunday, 2^h. — I went to visit the Duchesse de Coigni, 
and to ask her husband if there was a court the next <^y, 
as I wished to be presented. She informed me there was, 
and told me I had nothing to do, but to send my name to 

the Due de P[ Jane. The Duchesse de P[ ]nne is 

now in a great situation, receiving company every night, 
and upon the top of the tree, after having been at the 
bottom. The changes in this mortal coil are rapid, and 
we cannot account for them. Perhaps this poor lady 
has expiated her errors in her former misfortunes. We 
cannot read the heart. Be that as it may, there she is, a 
great lady, and once more surrounded with splendour, 
and courted by all those who shunned her. Oh 1 this 
world ! this world I 

I went to the Tuileries, but could not gain admittance ; 
there was a mass, or a review, or some show, which pre- 
vented my seeing it. I went with Mr. J[ ] and M. 

Delessert to the Hotel des Invalides. Of all the monu- 
ments and public buildings sacred to the memory of the 
great and good, or adapted to the business and pleasures 
of men, none oi^ht to make more deep impression than 
those which are set apart to purposes of humanity. These, 
to a reflecting mind, possess a peculiar charm, less imagina- 
tive perhaps, but more exalting and intense, than any 
other. This great receptacle for the wounded soldiers, 
the aged or infirm servants of their country, is worthy 
of the object for which it is designed. I could not help 
comparing it with Chelsea and Greenwich Hospitals ; 
and I thought it more vast, but less beautiful as to its 
architecture. But the intmtion of the institution is the 
same, and that is a noble one. 

From thence we went to the Museum of French^Monu- 
ments — Music des Monuments Franfois. Nothing could 



excuse having collected all this assemblage of relics and 
tombs to meet in heterogeneous confusion together, 
except that it was an idea of national vanity which could 
alone have rescued them from total destruction ; and even 
with this excuse I could not get rid of the impression of 
incongruity and sacrilege which provoked and shocked 
me. The sacredness of all those thoughts which hover 
roimd the tombs of the departed, and which, viewed in 
the holy stillness of their original sanctuaries, they must 
have excited, is not felt when they are seen where they 
are now placed. To the antiquarian, the historian, and 
the artist, they are certainly a fund of science and enter- 
tainment ; but still the great and higher sentiments 
which these monuments were intended to commemorate, 
are entirely extinguished ; and I doubt if the knowledge 
gained to science is worth the feelings lost. 

I dined at a Madame G[irardi]n's. I was too late, and 
found them all at table, which shocked me considerably ; 
but the master of the house came out to receive me, and 
accepted my apoh^es with great good humour. I soon 

became acquainted with Monsieur and Madame G[ ]n, 

but not with their guests, whose names I never even heard. 
They all conversed gaily and agreeably, and I did my best 
to be pleasant. They talked over the politics of the day, 
or ratlker of the past, most freely. I asked my left hand 
ne^bonr if it was not rather imprudent to do so before 
servants. " They have always spoken thus in this house,** 
he replied, " Onne parte fas seulemeni, on babiUe." The 
dinner was soon over, and the company rose all together, 
ladies and gentlemen, and went into an adjoining apart- 
ment, which opened into a garden, where we sat on a 
terrace, and had tea and cofiee. Among other subjects 
of conversation, that of the present fashions in dress 
had its turn. I ventured to express my dislike of the 
high chimney bonnets, but all the gentlemen defended 
them, as well as the ladies, and seemed to take as lively 



an interest in the fashions of their ladies' dresses as they 
do in the affairs of their nation. 

Monsieur de G[ ]n talked much, and tolerably well, 

but with a frothy kind of manner that was truly French. 
He thought everything was for the best ; and all that had 
been, had opened the eyes of the people ; and that a 
Constitution formed on the basis of that of England, 
would now give happiness and liberty to France. My 

neighbour on my left hand, whom Monsieur G[ ]n 

called mon cher, seemed of a very different opinion. 
He said that everything connected with pubhc afiairs 
was gradually returning to its former state, and that 
" St c'etoit PEmpereur, le Rot, ou le premier Consul" the 
French people would be always tyrannized over. 

I staid for an hour or two, and was well amused with 
the people and their conversation. One man, who was 
the wit of the party, and a kind of French Ward, told me 

he had been well acquainted with Lord [ ] " il y avoit 

bien des ann^ " ; he was very charming, he said, — "mats 
tPune indolence I " — " dont il n'est jamais revemt," said I. 

I drove to the Duchesse de P[ie]nne, to leave my 
name, and intending to pay her a visit had she been alone, 
but I found a great assembly at her door, and did not like 
to go in, so went home. There is a strange report about 
the Princess of Wales having written to hire Monsieur 
de Sebastiani's house here — I contradict it flatly. Fortu- 
nately I can do so, not having been informed of the circum- 
stance — but in my own mind I fear there has been some 
truth in it. The cause,- however, which m^ht have 
induced her Royal Highness to come, no longer exists. 
I trust therefore she will not be so silly as to come to a 
court which could not, if it would, receive her with proper 

MondMy, asM Jtdy. — I went with Mr. C[— — ] to see 
St. Genevieve and Le Jardin des Plantes. Close to the 



church of St. Genevieve lives a Monsieur Chevalier, a 
learned man, a friend of Mr. Craven and Sir W. Gell. 
I liked his appearance and manner : he had lived many 
years at Edinburgh, having fled from France during the 
time of terror ; and he retained a most grateful remem- 
brance of the kindness and hospitality he had received 
in Scotland, We saw the library : it is a magnificent 
room, with one or two smaller ones adjoining, which 
contained medals, natural curiosities, &c., but these have 
been taken away, and there are only some poor remains. 
St. Genevieve is a fine building, I believe of the Corinthian 
order, but is not exempt from many faults, some of which 

strike even an ignorant eye, and others Mr. C[ ] 

pointed out, such as the columns round the cupola being 
larger at the top than the bottom, which had a most 
imgraceful effect. I went up to the outside of the cupola, 
in defiance of the heat, in order to take a general view of 
Paris. I was amply rewarded for my trouble, byiiehold- 
ing the grandest possible bird's eye prospect of the whole 
city and its environs. This was rendered more interesting 
by Monsieur Chevalier giving us an exact description of 
the movement of the Allies round Paris previously to their 
entrance. He said he expected every moment the town 
would be burnt, and one general ruin would ensue ; but 
Providence had mercifully brought this affair to a blessed 

In showing us the nave of the churdi, he whispered 
to me that Bonaparte had designed to have his statue 
placed there, with an intention that it should have been 
worshipped. When I remarked that I had been induced 
to believe Bonaparte had restored the due observance 
of religion ; he replied, " He only meant to make one after 
his own fashion." " // avoit rintention d'en faire une i 
sa mode." Monsieur Chevalier's feelings lay on the other 
side of the question, I saw ; and perhaps they misled his 
judgment ; but certainly all the reflecting and ddto: part 



of the community seem to partake his sentiments on this 
subject. After gazing at the church, its cupola, and its 
vaults, which latter are particularly fine, and contain the 
tombs, or, I believe, rather the cenotaphs, of Rousseau and 
Voltaire — for, as to the fonner, I heard Monsieur Chevalier 
say, that some of his remains were at [Ermenonville], 
now the country house of Monsieur de G[irardi]n — ^we 
proceeded to the Jardin des Plantes. I regretted not 
seeing the interior of a church caJled St. Etienne, close to 
St. Genevieve. Its exterior is beautiful : it is of no 
regular architecture, but it possesses that species of beauty 
which excites the imagination, and awakens interest. 
The extreme heat of the weather, the thermometer being 
at eighty-three, together with the quantity of sights I 
wanted to see, and the number of things I had to do in 
the space of twenty-four hours, hurried me away to the 
Jardhi des Plantes. As I do not understand botany, and 
saw no beautiful flowers, I was disappointed, and i^d not 
remain there long. 

Tuesday, 26(A.— Monsieur Delessert took me to the 
atelier of a Monsieur Gerard, the person who is reckoned 
the finest artist in Paris. We were shown into a room 
in which were full-length portraits of the Emperor of 
Russia, of Bemadotte, of Murat, king of Naples, and a 
rom[K>5ition of Cupid and Psyche ; this last was very 
beautiful, and yet I thought there was a stifiness in it, a 
look of something not natural. There were many other 
pictures, but one is alwajre hurried on these occasi<ms, 
and as I was told it was the greatest possible favour to be 
received by Monsieur Gerard, and as Madame came and 
made us a visit, I was forced to employ that time in 
civility which I would rather have given to observation. 

I asked Madame Gerard if there was no picture of 
Bonaparte ; and after a little demur I was shown into a 
small room, where the great Monsieur G^ard was himself 



painting. He was very polite, and showed me two half- 
length portraits of Bonaparte, which I think must be like : 
the one meagre and keen, a famished face, in pursuit of 
conquest ; the other, bloated and surfeited by conquest 
and power — both handsome, and the eyes of both mira- 
culous. Mcmsieur G^ard is a little man, with a sharp, 
intelligent cotmtenance. I was pleased to have seen 
this atelier, it being that of the best modem French 
painter. Monsieur Delessert is imbued with an idea 
of Bonaparte's 'greatness, which does not admit of his 
judging him with an unprejudiced mind. 

I received several letters from England to-day. Mrs. 

[ ] says, " The Princess Charlotte went with a heavy 

heart, I hear, yesterday to Cranford Lodge, (I think that 
is the name of the place,) Windsor Park. She has, of 
all her friends, only been allowed to see Miss Mercer.* 
Miss Knight has not been suffered to return to her. The 
courtiers say all is made up, but no one believes them ; 
how can they, while she is a state prisoner ? The Rfaw- 
don]s axe going abroad. Mrs. R[awdon] wrote to Lady 
Ilchester to propose that pretty Bessy might pay her 
duty to Her Royal Highness before she went, but was 
coldly answered that she had communicated the letter to 
Princess Charlotte, who was just setting out for Windsor. 
This sad affair cannot come before Parliament, it is said, 
as the jurisdiction of a father is by our laws absolute till 
the child is of age, that is, one-and-twenty — though at 
eighteen the heir of the crown, as successor, may reign. 
Lord Stewart (Lord Castlereagh's brother) is named 
ambassador to Viemia. The Princess of Wales means 
soon to go to Worthing. 

I am sorry to find, and so are all her friends, that Mrs. 
Thompson t is still determined to go into Yorkshire, and 

* Afteivruda FUtuult. 

t Urs. Thunpaon u iDpposed to mean the Ptincew of Wale* ; and 
Yotkataire— tbe Coatment. [Oiiginal note.] 



particularly as her son sees this in the li^t we do, aad taUks 
most wisely od the subject ; but, being a widow, she must 
do as she likes. Some drcumstances too I heard from her 
maitre d'hotel, that I shall communicate another time to 

Thursday, 28th, Paris. — I dined with Lady Westmore- 
land. There were present Sir Rfobert] W[ilson], Mr. 

Craven, and Mr. J[ ]. It was a very amusing party ; 

it never can fail to be so where Lady Westmoreland is. 

I received another letter to-day from Mrs. [ ], 

telling me. 

The Duke of [Susses], in the House of Lords, Tuesday 
last, asked some curious questions relative to the sort of 
confinement the Princess Charlotte is now under — Whether 
she was allowed communication with her friends and con- 
nexions ? Whether she was allowed the liberty of writing 
to her friends, &c. ? Whether the recommendation was 
given to Her Royal Highness last year for sea bathing, which 
is understood to have been given this ? Whether there is 
any intention of providing Her Royal Highness a suitable 
situation ? These questions were stated simply, without 
further remarks, nearly as shortly as I have set them down. 
Lord Liverpool and the Chancellor were much displeased 
at His Royal Highness, made lou(^ speeches, but did not 
answer the questions. • 

The Royal Duke then announced a future motioo on the 
subject, but, not having again appeared in the House, as 
it was expected he would, it is shrewdly suggested that « 
fit of asthma, of which he now complains, has been brought 
on by a sharp letter, sent to him by Lord Liverpool by 
the Regent's order. I believe that for the present the 
subject will drop, for it is thought that it is not one on 
which Parliament is «>mpetent to interfere. 

A tetter from London informs me 

The fHe on Thursday last at Carlton House went off un- 
commonly well. The round temporary building was so 
large, and the rooms issuing from it so numerous, that in 



spue of numbers there was no crowd. The f^te was expressly 
given in honour of the Duke of Wellington, whom I saw there, 
and for the first time. He is, as I have always heard, well- 
looking, soldier-like, natmal, and pleasing in his manner — 
so he appeared to me as I stood near him, and saw him talk 
to those about him. Mr. Thompson, who of course was 
there, it was remarked, did not seem in the best of humours. 
The fireworks, which were to take place to-morrow, are 
deferred till Monday week, they say. Would they were over I 
and so all London seems to wish. Some dreadful accident, it 
is feared, will unavoidaUy take place on that day, whenever 
it comes. 

Master Thompson,* to my great surprise, actually saw his 
mother yesterday. Our friend, to whom she has herself 
told it, gave me this infonnation yesterday ni^t : whether 
by permissitm en: how, I know not. It was a leave-taking, 
as Mrs. Thompson means to leave London to-morrow. 

I must not omit telling you that Sir William Gell is finally 
appointed by the Princess of Wales her equerry ; and, if she 
goes abroad, the final destination for the winter is Naples. 
You think that Chanticleer's reign is over — may it be so I 

Dijon, Monday, 1st of August, 1814. — I had been told 
I was to meet with all sorts of dangers and difficulties, 
and was advised to go by Voiturier, which has saved me 
no expense, and I have been nearly twice as long on the 
road as I should, had I posted. All the stories I heard 
in England respecting delays, and dangers, and bad roads, 
are perfectly without foundation ; and, considering that 
I have passed through a great part of the country which 
was overrun by troops, I have hardly seen any marks of 
devastation. The innkeepers say they have been eaten 
up, and there have been a few bridges broken, and a 
very, but very few houses burnt : — having said this, one 
has said all. The harvest seems plentiful ; the people, 
indeed, acknowledge it. The earth everywhere is covered 
with abundance, and there is no appearance of want of 
i mean Princess Cfaarlotu. 



culture ; this happy soil, indeed, requires but little care 
to make it yield increase. From Auxeire, where I slept 
on Friday last, I passed through a beautiful country — 
vines, and wood, and com, rocks crowning the whole, 
or peeping out in picturesque forms, or hewn into 
terraces, which contrasted finely with the richness of 
the surrounding foliage and the wavii^ com. 

All the inns I have been in, compared with those of 
England, are miserable ; but they are quite good enough 
for the pui'poses of animal existence, if not enjoyment. 
When ^iglish persons set out from their own firesides, 
they must lay aside the cloak of prejudice, or they will 
be wretched the whole time they are absent. I find, in 
the first place, that one must learn to do everything in 
public. I do not know that I have been one moment 
alone since X left Calais. The women walk in and out 
of one's room, whether one is dressed or not ; and there 
are very seldom any bars or bolts to stop their progress. 
Thej' have all, men and women, (the natives I mean,) a 
kind of familiar pohteness, which I think very agreeable. 
I have talked to every one I have met, and foimd them 
generally well-informed, sensible, and civil. Wben I say 
well-informed, I must not include the subject of politics : 
on this head some of them appear to be comically ignorant, 
and many seem still afraid to speak their minds in regard 
to public affairs. 

There are evidently two parties in France. It appears 
to me, however, that if the government pay the soldiery, 
which they have not yet done, and devise some mode of 
employing them, the tide will sink of itself into the old 
channel. I received, to-day, a letter from my dear friend 

t ]. It was a great happiness to me ; for the first week 

of absence from those we love or like, seems always 
cruelly long. Not that I will ever allow I could team to 
live without those I love, while a possibility exists of 
living wi^ them ; but that the weaning from any habit 



adds an additional pang to regret. A letter mitigates 
this ; and I derived all the contort from this one which 
it was calculated to inspire. During the few days I spent 
in that wonderful city, Paris, I saw more, and did more, 
than I ever saw or did before in the same given time ; — 
among other things I went to court. Their courts are 
held of an evening, in compliance with circumstances ; 
and, out of compliment to the Duchesse D*AngouI€me, 
the ladies wear no gold, or silver, or jewel, but are usually 
dressed in white crape or silk, with feathers or not, as 
they choose ; and long trains are the only distinctive 
mark of full dress they are obliged to wear. 

This simjdicity in the ladies' attire does not, however, 
prevent there bdng an air of grandeur in this court. The 
magnificent space, the grand entrance to the Tuileries, 
the staircase, the very simplicity of the women's dress 
in that magnificent palace, and a certain interest attached 
to its cause, produced a fine spectacle. There were few 
gentlemen, except those immediately de service. Lady 
Westmoreland was the only English lady. The Duchesse 
de P[ie]nne is now the great lady of Paris : her husband 
presented Lady Westmoreland, who, as an English lady, 
was received first. 

The King was in an iimer room, surroimded by bis 
attendants ; he rose and said, in EngUsh, with marks of 
feeling, that *' he should never forget what he owed to 
England." This touched us English people for the 
moment. The never forget is a great word, but one must 
hope it is a true one. When one ceases to beheve in the 
possibility of truth, one ceases to beUeve in all that is 
exalted in human nature. 

The women's dress is affectedly simple — white muslin, 
very short waists, very full petticoats : but the ugliest 
part of their habiliments is the high chimneys on their 
hats, which chimneys are covered with feathers and 
flowers. When fashion is subject to taste, I like it, but 



wfaea it is despotic and capricioiis, and subverts all taste, 
I cannot endure it. To my idea, the more nearly women's 
dress assimilates to the antique, the more beautiful. Our 
climate and manners alwa}rs demand some difierence, 
but at present the French discard all resemblance what- 
ever to what one has been taught to think beautiful, time 
inunem<Hial. The part men take in this subject is 
comical : they seem to think, that from the law of their 
country-women there is no appeal. 

Every article of living is as dear here as in England, 
when one passes through ; but certainly one might livs 
at Paris more cheaply than in London ; and there are 
all the same pleasures of dissipation to be had, at a more 
easy rate, and in a more perfect and varied style. 

Scheron, August 6th, 1814, Geneva.— 1 came from 
Horey, thirty miles from this, over a new road made by 
Bonapairte. It is magnificent, both as a work, and as 
affording the grandest view of the mountain scenery that 
it is possible to conceive ; but the whole way is a series 
of frightful precipices, and ascents and descents, which 
make one giddy even in recollection. At a place called 
La Fossil, about fourteen miles from hence, the first view 
of Hont Blanc, the Lake of Geneva, and the valley, bursts 
upon the sight. Descriptions of scenery seldom or ever 
convey the emotion the scenes themselves excite ; but 
it is difficult not to attempt imparting some portion of 
the feelings which they inspire. 

This hotel is all cleanliness and comfort, — the beautiful 
lake and its appendages in sight of the windows. I get up 
every now and then from my table to look at M<Hit Blanc, 
as if it was going to run away, and that I should never 
see it again. It is at this moment glittering in the sun, 
and not one cloud rests upon its surface. It is difficult 
to say which is the most blue, the sky or the water, but 
I rather think the latter. 



X am already acquainted with many persons. I have 
had an agreeable surprise in finding Sir H. and Lady 
Davy established here. I thought we never should have 
done asking and answering questions. Lady D. professed 
berseli delighted to renew her acquaintance with me. 
I hope she is sincere, it is so pleasant to believe in such 
demonstrations — so much the contrary toj^doubt them, 
that it is not worth while to be an infidel. Sismond 
was there, author of the Ripubliques Italiennes, &c, &c., 
Monsieur De Schlegel, an author likewise, Monsieur 
Dumont, a Monsieur De Constant, cousin of the Constant, 
Monsieur De Rocca, and an Englishman, a Mr. Gumming, 
who, in point of looks, was the flower of the flock. The 
dinner was very agreeable — all tumbled on the table first, 
and afterwards down our throats, with an abandon, as- to 
the manner of both, truly Staelisk. It suits me vastly ; 
nevertheless, I cannot help seemg the delatrement of the 
chateau, the incongruity of the establishments, and the 
hideousness of the philosophers. I feel as if I were com- 
mitting an insincerity in writing thus of a society among 
whom I was excessively amused and delighted, and to 
whom I did my best to be agreeable in my turn. 

There are millions of Madame Casenoves here, of the 
present and last centuries ; one, the old one, very agreeable 
and clever. She hates The Stael, and knows ail the qui 
pro quos of the day ; and is so cross ; it is mighty amusing 
to converse with her. The d^evant Empress, Marie 
Louise, is constantly going backwards and forwards from 
Paris — yes, from Paris to the Bavis Daix, and she always 
sleeps here. About a fortnight ago she was here, with 
all her chamberlains, and the Lord knows what train 
of servants, ladies, &c. &c. The day before yesterday, 
she was here again, without any attendants save four 
men and one lady. I was close to her in the garden, 
and had not a little English mauveise honte come over me, 
I might have talked to her, for I was not obliged to know 



who she was. The consciousness that I did know, 
prevented me taking this liberty. 

I hear that this journeying of her majesty bodes no 
good. King Joseph of Spain, as he calls himself, wrote 
his majest3rship, in the book in which travellers write 
their names at this inn : he dined at Copet. Comical 
enough, somebody said, all the family would dine there 
soon — ^but that is only a joke. 

Geneva, 15th August, 1814. — I received a letter to-day 
from Keppel Craven, in which he says. 

All my happy plans, and the hopes of seeing you, are 
annihilated by Mrs, Thompson's sudden departure from 
England, and her requiring my attendance, which, after all 
her kindness, I cannot refuse ; so here you see me on the 
eve of setting off for Brunswick, through the woist and most 
uninteresting part of all Germany, I have been threatened 
with this event for this week past, which has been the reason 
of my delaying my departure, nor could I write till I was 
certain of my plans. 

I have only received hurried scraps from Gell, who, I fancy, 
has had the trouble of the preparations on his shoulders, and, 
from these very unsatisfactory accounts, I can only make 
out that Lady Elizabeth Forbes and Lady Charlotte Lindsay, 
are in waiting, but the latter leaves the household at Bruns- 
wick, as does Mr. St. Leger. Gell and Dr. Holland continue, 
and then begin my functions, which, however, I have only 
promised for two months, as my mother wants me after that 
period, and it is impossible ioi me to say, with any degree 
of certidnty, whether I can be a permanent chamberlain or 
not. I had at one time hoped I should be allowed to take 
my way through Switzerland, as the stay at Brunswick will 
be short ; and there is a project of going on to Italy, through 
the said Switzerland ; so I must make haste ; for by Cell's 
last letter, dated the 4th of this month, they were to sail 
on the 8th — that is, yesterday. 

AH this has agitated and annoyed me ; ttie more so as I 
consider the step injudicious iii a political sense. But we 
must make the best of it. Hy sister. Lady Sefton, her 



husband, and family, have been here nearly a week, aad this 
delay has enabled me to see them a little, which is some 
omsolation. ' 

Ever youis, most sincerely, 

R. K. C. 

August i6lh, 1814. — I received letters from England ; 

one from Mrs. [ ], who tells me the following news 

about the Princess, dated the 8th of August. 

Her Royal Highness embarked, this morning, on board 
the Jason frigate, with all due honours — her suite. Lady 
Charlotte Lindsay, Lady E. Forbes, Sir W. Cell, Dr. Holland, 
Mr. St, Leger, &c, &c. The Princess, jiist before she went, 
wrote a letter to Cajming, in which she said, that if any 
machinations were going on against her, were it but a whisper, 
a short time only woiUd elapse before she might again set 
her foot on English ground, to defend her innocence. Canning 
referred this letter to Lord Liverpool, and the latter to the 
Prince, (as they said,) and the answer was mild — how sincere 
I know not — " no such thing intended," &c. &c. This may 
perhaps be called spirited, but I regret her thus quitting the 
advice of those who really wish her well, and throwing herself 
into the hands of others, who act only from interested views, 
and would be ready at any time to sacrifice her. Canning 
has just been named to llsbon. Think, after all that has 
passed between him and Lord Castlereagh, of his serving 
under him I ! — for this is the case. Lord Castlereagh being 
minister for the department, and (nominally) naming the 
different foreign ministers. What can one think of Canning 
after this ? It is thought, too, that the whole has been an 
undeiBtanding, and that Canning has obtained his post in 
consequence of having persuaded the Princess to go abroad. 
That it was her wish and project we well knew, but I do 
think he has encouraged her in the measure, and made things 
easy to her — then makes a merit of this to the higher power. 
Be this as it may, I much (as I before said) r^ret the step 
she has taken, and fear that she may have cause to repent 
it in future. She received a very kind letter from her daughter 
just before she embarked. Poor Princess Charlotte t she is 
still a swt of prisoner — has a;^>eaTed at none of the tiles 



that have taken place, not even at Frogmore, where the 
Queen (Charlotte) gave a jubilee on the ftince's birth-day ; 
and, what is worse, she is, poor thing, really ill, and sufiering 
from her knee. BaiUie now attends her, and it is said she is 
ordered to the sea-side. The Prince yesterday looked better 
than I have seen him for years ; — a new sort of head-dress, 
and dark clothes, with the golden fieece round his neck, which so 
became him, that I was in admiration of his beauty, Sk. &c. 

A Letter from the Princess of Wales.* 

(Dated) August 7th. 1814. 

I am on the eve of sailing, which will be to-morrow evening, 
as the wind is favourable, in the Jason frigate. Another brig 
is to carry all oui luggage, baggage, and carriages. Captain 
King represents Jason himself. If the present wind is favour- 
able to land at * * * [illegible] continues, we shall arrive by the 
lath of August ; by the 15th I hope to be at Brunswick. I in- 
tend only to remain in my native country ten or fifteen days, 
after wUch I shall set out immediately for Switzerland in 
the beginning of September. My intention still is to remain 
at Naples for the winter, but in case disturbances should 
commence there against Murat, of course I should prefer to 
be the winter at Rome or Florence — but we must not anti- 
cipate misfortunes before they really arrive, for which reason 
I trust for the best, to be able to be at Naples, &c. &c. 

P.S. The second Prince of Orange is just arrived in London : 
he is of the same age as my daughter, and I should not be 
much surprised that this marriage would take place soon, as 
Princess Charlotte would certainly not be under obligation 
to leave her native country, [he] being not the successor, 
only the grandson. 

Monday, i2th of September, 1814. — I have now passed 
some weeks at Geneva. There is a picked sodety of 
intelligent and superior persons resident in or travelling 
through the country ; and yet, after the great stage of 
life in London, Paris, or Vienna, it requires to let off the 



gas of excitement before one can sober oneself down to 
the narrowed circle of " VimperceptibU Gmhe," — 
one of its own citizens designated this City of the Lake. 
The locking up of the gates at ten o'clock, the mounting 
guard, and the consequential minutis of magistrates, 
who, like masters of the ceremonies at watering-places, 
officiate in much the same trivial points of etiquette, 
incline one to laugh at this Lilliput repubhc. And yet 
there is something in the good faith of its principal 
members, their great sincerity in what they deem the 
preservation of their laws and liberties, which makes one 
love, while one laughs at them. Not so as regards their 
literary and scientific repubhc. In no one spot, perhaps, 
are there more distingushed men gathered into one small 
focus, all nobly contending for the advancement of 
intellectual greatness: Schlegel, Sismondi, Pictet, De 
Saussure, and, at this moment, the children of other 
climes, but in brotheiiiood of tastes of the same stock. 
Sir James Mackintosh, Sir Humphrey Davy, &c. &c., are 
all congregated in one brilliant galaxy. There are many 
others, also, of justly famed cdebrity, in the circles of 
Geneva ; but Madame De Stael's name, like Aaron*s 
rod, must swallow up the rest ; and all lesser lights, 
before hers, will " pale their ineflectual fires. Whatever 
envy and detraction may say, she is not only the most 
wonderful woman, but the most wonderful of hiunan 
beings, that ever shed lustre on the age in which she 
lived. Among her own dependents, and in her own 
chateau, she is a sovereign who is loved, beyond all 
question, with a devoti<»i that does honour to those who 
pay, and to her who receives the homage. 

At this moment, many English are here : Lady 
W[estmoreland], who has a great charm about her, but 
never rests berseU, and never lets any one else rest in 
ber presNice. As for myself , though always happy to be 
of use, I confess her commands, in the way of attendance, 



are sometimes more frequent than I can well obey ; but 
to-day it was convenient to me to be of her party. 
There are some persons whom one cannot help making a 
convenience of. We drove to a campagne of Madame 

R[ Js about three miles from Les Grottes. A small 

n^ leads to a terrace, from whence the beautiful scenery 
of the lake, its opposite shores, and the Alps, rise in all 
their grandeur ; and the ground on either side of the 
Leman is finely moulded and diversified in gentle xm- 
dulations, where vines and pasture lands intermingle 
their rich treasures. I know not why this scenery, 
more than any other, oppresses the heart with a sense of 
its own insufficiency to procure happiness. Is it that, 
calculated as it is to excite the feelings to rapture, the 
contrast with the dull vacuity that reigns within, is 
more forcibly brought to view, and renders the burthen 
of lonely existence weightier ? Perhaps it is — for since 
I came here, my own cruel fate seems more vividly 
represented to my contemplation ; the long years of 
" fair occasion goae for ever by," which have blighted 
my youth, and will scathe my age. Madame De Stael 
is going, where her wishes have long been her avarU 
couriers — going to Paris, the scene of her triumphs, of 
her ambition, of her fame ; but how long will she be 
allowed to remain there ? — two suns cannot shine in 
one hemisphere. 

Getteoa, 14/* of September. — The fine arts are at a low 
ebb here — here, where Nature puts forth all her majesty. 
This seems strange ; but I believe that the very mag- 
nitude and sublimity of this part of creation are opposed 
to the imitative power of the pencil. Landscape painting 
is scarcely practised, except those hard, topographical 
views, unworthy the name of art, though it must be 
allowed they are faithful portraits of the features of the 
country ; but then, so is a skeleton a faithful represen- 



tative of the human form. The immense scale of the 
featiues of this coontry, and the abrupt contrast of 
eternal snow with the vivid green of the lower grounds, 
are not adapted to a picture, however sublime in them- 
selves. Each particular member of the landscape takes up 
too huge a portion of the canvas. Besides, there may be 
an excitement which is favourable to the development of 
talent, and there may be an overwhelming sense of great- 
ness which is the reverse. Perhaps this is the reason why 
there are so few artists of any celebrity in this country. 
I met several very distinguished men at Lady Davy's ; 
but the same persons are not the same in different places 
and under different influences ; and whenever Sir H. 
Davy presides in a society, as usual, nothing amalgamates. 
It is strange, that a person so gifted, and one so justly 
celebrated, should so misunderstand in what his strength 
consists. It is very remailtable bow much pleasanter 
all one's British acquaintance are on the Continent than 
at home, with the exception of a few growlers. Lord 

Lucan and Lord B[ ] were instances of this. I 

observed, however, a great coldness between Lord Lucan 
and Lady C. Campbell. I asked her ladyship the reason 
of it, and she said, '* It is perfectly true that he does 
avoid me ; — but why I know not. I will ascertain the 
reason, however, and if I find it out, I will tell you." 
Afterwards she told me, that he had only avoided her, 
in order not to be drawn into the society of Her Royal 
Highness the Princess of Wales, whose arrival here is 
daily expected. The reason he gave for his determination 
to have no further intercourse with Her Royal Highness 
was, that during the reign of his favour, at Kensington, 
she confided everything to him, and told him all she 
meant to do ; and that, having asked his advice upon 
the subject of these intentions, he had honestly rephed, 
" By heavens, madam, since you do me the honour to 
ask my advice, it is my duty to tell your Royal Highness 



that you will be sent a sort of state prisoner to HolyFoed 
House,* if you act in such a manner ;|and you w^ not 
only ruin your own fortunes, but thosejof every peison 
who may live in intimacy with you." To this ^e re- 
plied, that she had determined so to conduct herself. 
" Then, madam, I had better withdraw as soon as possible 
from the honour of your Royal Highness's society. I 
shall advise every one of my friends to do so likewise ; 
since all those persons who are much at Kensington, must 
be implicated in the evil yon are drawing down nptm 
yourself." " Well," replied Her Royal Highness, laugh- 
ing, " I see how it is — you are afraid. I am never afraid ; 
but at all events, come to me to-morrow morning, to take 
your eternal adieu." " I obeyed," continued he ; *' she 
repeated her determinations — once again I reasoned with 
her — I told her Lady 0[xfor3d was not a person with 
whom she ought to associate — she dented associating 
with bier, and while in the very act of denyii^ this, 
Philip, the German footman, came in, and asked whether 
Lady 0[xfor]d was to wait in the drawing-room, or come 
ano^er time. This detection of a falsehood made me 
think the sooner fe retirais mtm ipin^ du jeu, the better." 
When Lady Charlotte told me this story, I had not a 
word to say. Alas ! poor Princess, bow oftoi she has, 
as it were, cut her own throat. 

Extract of a Letter from Sir William Gell. 

BRtmswicK, August 23d, 1S14. 
Do not expect to have a very long letter from me : all the 
time I have must be devoted to business. We set out next 
Monday, and get to Cassel, if we can, next day, thence by 
Frankfort and Basle, to Geneva. Now you are to desire 
[ ] to get a convenient sitnation to live in. — ^The Princess, 

* Since 1746 HolTTOod House bad not been occupied, except, aftcc 
1796, by "Monsieur" the Comte d'Artois, brathcr of the exiled Louis 
XVIII. of France, who ms allowed to lende there. 





VTiUOiB* and EdwardiDd, Lady Elizabeth Forbet, Keppcl 
Crftvss, and myself ; Dr. Holland, Hesse Carrinfton, Hierony- 
moB, the Abb6 Scard, Charles the footman, Crackler, Doctor 
Holland's servant, — ^Lod^n^ for all these, and, perhaps 
three ladies — don't know — a small party; bat do not fail 

and write to Basle to us, Poste reaUmie. Next, [ ] ia to 

look out for the best of all possible trust-worthy good maids 
tor the Princess, as Miss Leitzen ia taken ill ; the maid fa to 
be on trial at first-f Also a very good man-cook, &c. &c 
Your most sincere and afEectiooate, 

W. Cell. 

GsKKVA, Oct. 1814. 
The Princess only remained here frtan M<Miday till Thursday. 
I felt in that shc»i space of time how very ill it would have 
afreed with <m to have remained longer in her society. As 
to her mode of pax)ceeding, (aa I am really her frieod,) it 
distressed me greatly : she was dressed, or rather undrc^wd, 
most iigudiciously. The natives were, as she would have 
ftxpceased it, " all over shock." The suite who travel with 
ber declare openly they fear they diall not be able to go oa 
with ber ; not so much from wrong doings as from ridicoloas 
eoes. When the party were at Berne, the d-dmant Empress 
Uaiie Louise was there, and invited the whole party to 
dbmer. Accordingly they west, and were received in great 
state. Gold plate, bearing the imperial aims, and everyttnog 
dt amU, c ovM ed ths boud. To sum up the i^le trf that 
extraordinary maetuig, the Princess and Haiie Louise sang 
a duet together 1 1 Tliat was an event of the 18th century 
worthy of bong recorded. I wonder vrbat Harie touise 
thought of the Prineeos's sin^ag ? She must hav« been 

The Archduchess Aime has a small chateau near Bene, 
and she also invited the Princess and her snite, vibo were 

■ WUliUn, Utdy in a mad-hoiue, the boy, coocerning vrbom tfa* 
Princess once asid to a person who wna ^vinf ber good mdvice, and 
infoiming her that evil-minded people pernated in calling him her 
SOD — " Prove it and he shall be youi King." A noble speech, supposing 
the accusation to be false, and a clever deniii), if It waa tme. [Origina] 

I This maid ms Was Dnmont, who made such a oodbi^cqoiis fignr* 
aftKwmids in the Qneen's trial. [Original note.] 



one and all delighted with the Duchess Anne, and spdce of 
her in the highest tenns : but the Princess seems satisfied 
with nothing, and has a spirit of restlessness in her irinch 
belongs to the unhappy and nnprindpled. Whilst she 
soioumed at Geneva, letters came to her Rojral Highness, 
recommending her, in the str(mgest tenns, not to go to Naples. 
Whether she will fix her residence at Florence, or Hmse, 
seems now to be the questicHi. 

Extract of a Letter from London : — 
The Princess, as you will perhaps have beard, is actnaUy 
at Naples, in spite of admonitions against the measure from 
Lord Liverpool ; and it is, into the ba^ain, extremely probaUe 
that there may be very serious trooHes there, as the present 
King, Hurat, seems not at all disposed to give way to the 
command to depart, and has already assembled sixty thonsand 
men for his defence, and declares that he will not be sent to 
Elba. I believe this to be much the state of the case. The 
Princess will, I dare say, (but not for these two or three months 
to come,) have a ship sent by government, to be at her com- 
mand in the Mediterranean, into which, if molested by land, 
she may Intrepidly throw herself and escape. A house is 
taken for six months, at four hundred pounds, — the joum^ 
has cost ei^t thousand pounds, besides two thousand pounds 
at setting out, and other e^qienses ; in all ten thousand 
pounds. The Princess writes to her man of business: — 
" The loss of exchange of money is quite horrible, and I have 
been a great loser by it ; in short, I am, at this present moment, 
very poor indeed ; but do not say a word of it to liverpool." 
I am in great haste, as I am to give a rendesvous to the 
Holy Pope. Little else has been talked of here but the 
court-martial of Colonel Quentin ; and for a wonder it is a 
subject oa which there is but one opinion, — that the ofiKceis 
have been most harshly used, and favour shown where least 
it ought to have been shown. The Princess ought to beware ; 
she is watched by her husband ; the name of a suspected 
person is also known : that, and a description of his person, 
have been sent to her by a real friend. 

Afiectionately yours, 

A S. D. 



Widiusday, 15M. 

Weat with Louis Neckar to CoUgny ; the weather 
lighting up the scenery in all its splendour of beauty. 
We glided across the lake to Coligny without feeling 
that the boat moved. Above, around, below, all was 
beauty and simshine ; but, within — the gloom was not 
dispelled ; I felt more powerfully that excitement is 
only pleasurable to the happy. I have often said, save 
me from monotony ; but now I say, that it is better 
the current of life should stagnate, than to be aroused 
to feel all that one might be. and yet that one never 
can be. 

When we landed on the Savoy shore, we clambered 
up a steep terrace covered with walnut trees and vines. 
Under the foliage of the former trees were seen the blue 
lake, the walls of Geneva, and the opposite rugged hills 
of the Jura, on which a light grey cloud partially rested 
its transparent folds. Yet all this beauty only made 
me feel the more utter loneliness. After ascending for 
some way a steep acclivity, through vineyards, we entered 
a low door into a park ; but it had a poverty-stricken air, 
which is too often the case with all the beautiful campagttes 
in the neighbourhood of Geneva. Say what one will of 
poverty, it is an unkindly withering power, that blights 
the fairest, brightest scene, the most amiable of natures. 
A few acacias had been [danted here for om^nent, but 
they bad evidently been neglected. The vineyards only 
are cultivated with care, because they yield fruits of 
increase. These were at sufBdent distance from the 
lowly dwelling at Coligny, not to be derc^atory to the 
scene in any of the difierent seasons of the year. At this 
season the foliage of the grape is in all its green vigour, 
and contrasts well with the touches and tints of autumn, 
which here and there tell of the rigid winter that will 
soon strip them of their beauty. In the humble cottage 
(for it is little more) which hes nestled among a bower 



of trees, lives Uadame Neckar (her house being let for 
necessitous economy). This is the woman of whom 
Madanie de Stael said, *' £Ue a toutes les quality qu'on 
me donne, et toutes les vertus, que je n'ai pas." The 
world, in doing justice to the candour of this sentiment, 
must feel inclined to give additional homage to the 
eulogist who could thus Dobly bestow such a meed of 
praise on one of the very few women who might well 
excite her envy. Uadame Neckar is like all the womra 
here, careless in her person, except on gala days ; careless 
to an unpleasant state of neglect. I shoiild not like 
any friend of mine to appear attired as they are in the 
morning, — without stays, slipshod, en papilioUes, or un- 
combed. Finery for company, sloveniinees lor domestic 
life, must always create disgust ; and the more so. as 
it is difficult not to annex some moral defect to this 
culpable neglect of outward respect to their families 
and intimates. 

In despite of this custom, which Madame Neckar has 
not departed from, she is exceedingly pleasing. Her 
countenance is expressive of goodness and truth, and 
there is a compostfl kiadness of manner, which inspires 
the beholder with confidence in its sincerity, and imparts 
the tranquillity it feels. I was captivated by this charm- 
ing woman, and endeavoured to turn the subject upon 
literary topics. Louis Neckar said I was the first stranger 
to whom his mother had ever avowed that she was an 
authoress. I could not help, as she spoke often and 
with the most feeling praise, of Madame De Stael, 
contrasting these two extraordinary women together. 
Madame Neckar, in the retirement of comparative 
solitude, prosecuting studies of a grave cast, and obtaining 
fame, without appearing to do the one, or court the other, 
— hiding her talents b«ieatb the dull duties of household 
cares, and obtaining pruse unsought, and apparently 
indifferent to her, when obtained. Madame De Stad, 



on the contrary, blazing unrivalled in the splendour of 
that brilliant intellect of which not even envy denies 
her the possession ; feeling that hfe, without the excite- 
ment of pubhc applause, is tasteless, and that action, 
not contemplation, is the great good of existence. 

I remained in agreeable conversation with Madame 
Neckar till another visitor came : and, as she is tather 
deaf, I thought the interest of our communion would fail 
if discourse became general, so I took my leave, deter- 
mined to prosecute my acquaintance with so rare and 
so distinguished a woman. 

Monsieur de Rocca * came to pay me a visit. There 
is an open kindliness of manner in this young man which 
is peculiarly pleasing. He is writing his campaign in 
Spain. Everybody writes at Geneva — the air is infectious 
of scribbling — Madame de Stael*s pen inoculates all the 
inhabitants ; but unfortunately very few of the infected 
take the disease favourably. 

Thursday. — I was informed Her Royal Highness the 
Princess of Wales had arrived. I was electrified — ^was 
it with pain or pleasure ? " Oh, that I had wings like a 
dove 1 " My poor friend, Lady [Charlotte CampbeU], was 
called upon to get ap a ball directly, in honour of Her Royal 
Highness, and was obliged to drive all over the town and 
country to beat up for recruits ; which was not an easy 
matter ; so many of the English travellers wished to avoid 
knowing her, and somehow the natives had no mind to be 
troubled with royalty ; so that poor Lady [Charlotte 
Campbell] was obl^ed to take many rebufis, and foimd it 
very difficult to get together personages sufficient to make 
np a ball. At last, however, this great feat was efiected, 

* Tbia was the person wbo afterwards became so noticed as being 
tbe hiwband-lover of Madame de Stael. He was handMme/and had 
s<Niiething cbivalresque in ids demeaDour, which was calculated to 
turn a woman's head ; but be was not a man of any great supeiioiity 
of intellect. [Original oota.] 



and, thanks to three Gennans, who were a host in them- 
selves, the ball took place. But what was my horror when 
I beheld the poor Princess enter, dressed en Veruts, or rather 
not dressed, further than the waist. I was, as she used to 
say herself, " all over shock." A more injudicious choice of 
costume could not be adopted. She waltzed the whole 
night, with pertinacious obstinacy ; and amongst others 
whom she honoured with her hand upon this occasion, 
was Sismondi. These two large figures turning round 
together were quite miraculous. As I really entertained 
a friendship for the Princess, I was unfeignedly grieved 
to see her make herself so utterly ridiculous. If this is 
a commencement only of what she intends to perform 
in the South, she will indeed lose herself entirely. The 
next day we were invited to a dinner given by Her Royal 
Highness at Secheron. It might have been very agreeable, 
but the Princess insisted upon undue homage from two 
of her attendants, and made herself so ridiculous, that 
I determined to set off from Geneva directly, and not 
witness her degradation. 

After dinner she took me aside, and entered upon a 
wild plan of what she intended to do, and where she 
meant to go ; then talked of giving honours and ordos 
to certain of her suite, and made such a confusion respect- 
ing the ge<^rapbical arrangements of her route, that it 
was enough, as she used herself to say on other occasions, 
" to die for laugh," Fortunately for me, a very few days 
terminated her career at Geneva, and she prosecuted 
her journey without having an idea, in fact, where she 
was going to, or how she should be received at any of 
the courts where she purposed to reside. It was really 
as if, in leaving England, she had cast off all common 
sense and conduct, and had gone suddenly mad. It 
was a fortunate day for me which saw her depart, and 
I thought it would be my own fault if she caught me 
again in a huiiy. 



Extract of a Letter from Lady [ \. 

After many months absence I still feel sure of your interest, 
because I know your own steady and affectionate nature ; 
and, also, I think, where the sentiment of regard and admira- 
tion is veiy strong on one side, some reciprocity may be fairly 
claimed, though inadequate merit cannot boldly ask as large 
a portion of partiality. 

I have travelled the enchanting country of Italy, to come 
to this delightful place, for two months of repose and tranquil 
enjoyment. We have seen many fine cities, full (in s^te 
of French spoliation) of treasures and scenery which defy 
description, or, indeed, imagination. The union of Alpane 
sublimity with the charms and abundant vegetation and 
colouring of Italy, renders the road by the Simplon delicious, 
and the Lago Ibggiore exceeds every other I have ever 
visited. The road Is itself one of the worthy works of Bona- 
parte ; and, in the hatred of tyranny, and the indignation 
felt for the injuries of Europe, there is still some praise due 
to the greatest undertaking of modem times. It is executed 
as excellently as it is boldly imagined ; and in despte of 
the most incimceivable obstacles, presents as mudi con- 
venience to the traveller, as beauty to the lover of nature's 
most sublime features. 

I have been fortunate in witnessing many singular events 
and circumstances since we parted ; and Paris on the eve 
of its change of government — Florence just freed from its 
anpopular Dnchess of Tuscany — ^Na^^ not very sure of 
itself- — and Rome, in the days of fanatic and extatic bliss, 
for the return of the Pope, — have shown me the varieties of 
human events, and the difference of national character. An 
excavation at Pompeii, with a royal breakfast from the 
Queen, who is very pretty, and was extremely gracious, 
fnmed a very curious and interesting day. The marks of 
wheels remaining in the streets, and, in the shops, some of 
the very utensils of their destination, scarcely (though Vesa- 
vius stared one in the face) permitted the belief, that the 
Town had been so buried. 

Two interesting jslgrimages, two following days, were ta 
the sianmit of Mount Vesuvius, vdiich is, periiaps, the object 
in nata« that has most exdted astonfalunmt in my tramb ; 



and our second expedition, vAdch included a night, showed 
it to me in most uncommon and dread magnifiisnce. 

Rome requires no adventitious dicumstances to reodi^ 
it eminently delightful ; but, certainly, the prostraticKiE, 
hysterics, screams, &c., which preceded and followed every 
appearance of the I^^pe, on bis leturti, was a s^ht very extra- 
oidinaiy to a reasonable protestant. We mean to spend the 
winter in that dty, i^ere remembrances the most awakening 
rush on the mind in every ruin, and where the success of 
genius has immortalised the chisel and pencil, not of solitary 
instances of excellence, but of numerous artists. I never 
liked any place so much, yet it is rather with the dead than 
the living that one hves ; and, of the latter, Canova alone 
won my friendship and esteem. I except the foreigners, 
who invariably do the honours of Rome to the last comers. 

The strange change of events carries the tide of kings and 
queens strangely ^>art from their former territories. It is 
beheved Harie Louise is coming to this uei^bourhood, to 
some mineral baths ; and three of Bonaparte's brothers are 
already fixed in this country. It is painful to see how even 
friendly war destroys a country ; for Genoa, with her christian 
Uberatois, offers a sad scene of houses de^xuled, ftHtunes 
injured, and injustice sanctioned. The Austdans of course 
Uved free, and the commander4n-chief rather shabbily sent 
in the account of his baths and tooth-txushes, to be defrayed 
by the municipality. The having taken hfty-five jseces of 
the cannon of Genoa, which even the greedy and rapacious 
French never touched, is a mwe serious and deeper insult. 

I am so fond of Italy, wMch, notwithstanding the indolence 
of her peo|de, oppressed by a superstitious creed, is full of 
the se^ls of power and greatness, that I grieve that ber 
patrimony of fine works of art is allowed to remain where, 
certainly, it was tak&i by the violence of one whom the 
French now disclaim ; and therefore it is [ntiful to retain 
the fKy nii^i they reject the spoiler. 

In all public events, England is my chief object, and, 
indeed, the jsoud feeling of English birthrigfat bec(Rnes a 
passion when other countries and people have been aeea. 
But why is England sanctioning unjust conditioas relative 
to slavery, and aUowing your Royal Friend to be treated 
with iodJenity,-'4iot taotecting the sacred tights of a friend 



and a Strang^-, and the national rights due to our Princess of 
Wales ? If you can laeaent my remembrance to Her Royal 
Highness, convey, I pray, my good wishes for her health, 
and for all that she can claim of regard and consideration 
from the English people as her due, both as our Princess of 
Wales, and the mother of our future Queen ; — nor. Indeed, 
can she disclaim, or we foi^get, the niece of our unhappy 
sovereign, &c 

Extract of a Letter from Brocket Ball. 

October 17, 1814. 

If you have had our gracious Princess with you, we have 
our gracious Prince here at this moment with us. Nothing 
can be more agreeable and good-natured than he is,* In 
excellent spirits, and looking in health and beauty, better 
than I have seen him for years. He wears a certain new sort 
of darkish-coloured wig, without powder, that particularly 
becomes him. He asl^ me this morning if I was going 
abroad. I said, yes, that Iwasgoing in the early spring to you. 

" To Nice,"— ha immediately added, and I of coiirse 
replied, " Yes, Sir, to Nice," and no more was said : but 
the tone of his voice was complac«nt. — ^Everything, be assured, 
that in any way, decent or indecent, relates to the Princess, 
is known here. Of that I had a proof, among many others, 
in Lady Salisbury, who dined here, and mentioned the dress 
of the attendant cavaliers, and (which I was sorry for) quoted 
you for the intelligence ; but did not mention her auUiority 
— I mean to whom your letter was addressed : she said, you 
had represented the traveller as in the dress of Henri Quatre. 
This not before the Prince, as you may guess. D. 

* Beddes the prestige which cwtainly attends on exalted Btatlon, 
tbsre ia no doubt that few persons ever have posseosed, or ever can 
poesesa, greater fasdnation than did the then Prince of Wales. He 
had the faculty of persuading all on whoca he choae to exercise the 
spell or charm, that he took a cordial interest In t/teit interests ; and, 
without allowing the person whom he so addressed to forget he waa 
a prince, he exalted hjm to a level with himself, as a friend. U this 
enchanting power had always stood the teat of time and drcnmsfances, 
it would liave been not only a grace of manner, bnt a quality of cha- 
racter, that wonld have commanded respect, as well as ensured the 
afiactions of all who came within the sphere of his private society. 
[Ori^oal note.l 



October i8th, 1814. — I left Geneva yesterday with 
regret ; for its inhal^tants are exceUeot people, and the 
most distinguished among them showed me every atten- 
tion ; almost more than enough ; but this is only the 
ingratitude of a certain feistidiousness which I cannot 

wholly conquer. — Sir H. D[ '\ and his Lady were the 

most agreeable of my country-people staying there at the 
same time as myself. I cannot help fearing that all is 
not comfortable in that minage. I lament that they are 
a hindrance to each other in their respective pursuits ; 
but marriage is a terrific touchstone to happiness. The 
person for whom I felt most friendship, more even than 
the shortness of our acquaintance warranted, was an 
Admiral Hotham.* He is a delightful peison, brave 
and gentle, and just what an Admiral ought to be. He 
is gone, however, to his wife and children, who are in 
England, and there is an end of the pleasure bis society 
afforded me. 

The Princess of Wales's visit was brief but trouUesome. 
I am ashamed of the word ; for she came as kindly dis- 
posed towards me as ever, and I was gratified that Her 
Royal Highness received a kind reception from the 
Genevese ; but she left an unpleasant impression on 
their minds, by her indjudicious conduct during the few 
days she remained amongst them. Sir W. Gell and the 
two prot^^, WiUikins and Edwardines, were in her 
suite ; also Mr. Craven, Hr. Hesse, Dr. Holland, Lady 
Ehzabeth Forbes, and three ladies, Brunswickers, picked 
up of course on the road at the same moment when the 
ci-devant Empress, Marie' Louise, was living at Secheron, 
and the whole Canton in commotion, with the wandering 

• Sir William Hotbom, K.C.B. (1772-1848), AdmlnJ of ttw red, 
m. fiist, Anne, dftughter of Sir Edwanl Jeynes, Knt ; secondly, 
ill*. PettiwMid. The oiigiiiAl note says of this mairiage : " their 
tempera disagraeiiif, they have sepsikted," although she ma " a lady 


To-day I received a letter from Keppel Craven, 


Naplks, Sunday NigU. 

I am sorry to say, dear [ ^],tbat I began with breaking 

through the injunctions contained in your letter, by reading 
it aloud, and have continued so doing ^ter the remonstrance ; 
but then I was t£te-^t£te with Gell, over our tea, which we 
have every evening like two washerwomen, and am ashamed 
to say, that we prefer it to the ices that were hatnling about 
in the royal box we had quitted half an hour before, and in 
which we had left more embroidered uniforms than ever you 
beheld even ia your course down the Rhone. 

If you expect me to give you an account of our journies, 
you must be disappointed ; for it is a hard task, and on 
retrospection it only appears like a bad dream of princes 
and post horses. We have been honoured and feasted to 
death, and these honours and feasts have come in a progressive 
ratio, so as to leave nothing after this place that can seem 
palatable ; but luckily we cannot go further. Yet, if you 
must have a bird's eye-view of our pilgrimage of sovereignty, 
I will begin with the Lago Maggiore, which, in point of beauty, 
far surjAssed all our other visitations, though the palace 
was oi^y a count's. Ha Tante Aurore* would have been 
in her glory ; we had honours by proxy, but in some respects 
they were the more satisfactory on that very account. Mar- 
shal Count Bellegarde did more probably than any sovereign 
could have done. At Modeoa a new duke and duchess sent 
us sweetmeats, and invited our Lady to a concert, which was 
all they could afford. At Florence another duke visited and 
was visited, but lived in too retired a way to be very entertain- 
ing ; however, we made up for that, by our own parties, which 
were exceedingly brilliant, and well attended by the nobility 
of the place, as well as all the English who were there. 

We there saw a famous bad-been Roman beauty, the 
Duchess of Lanti.-f who sings far better than any titled person 
I ever heard. On entering the Papal teiritory, we flourished 
more than ever — never were allowed to pay for the post- 
horses, or to lodge at an inn, and, on arriving at Rome, were 
overrun with cardinals and prelates. I should have bean 



weU aatisiM} vith these pa^wliea, but we were raacover 
oppressed by a variety of broken-down kings and qowiis ; 
those of Spain and Etruria, a certain Duchess of Challais, 
of the Sardinian dynasty, Prince Frederick, of Saze Gotha, 
and, I fancy, many more. Judge if we had time to see 
antiquities or museums, in four days, which we spent in this 
capital of the christian world. 'Tis true, the antiquities are 
very much in the style of the above-mentioned potentates — 
extremely mutilated remains of structures whim had never 
been worth admiring. Not so the Pope, whom I might com- 
pare with bis own church of St. Peter, as being the only 
thing worth seeing in Rome. We all kissed his hand, aod 
he sent us scsne holy beads, and gave Her Royal Kig>nyx»f 
a firework and horse-race at Terradna, where his dominions 
terminate. And now you are arrived at the acm6 of our 
glory, — a whole regiment of cavalry to escort us, the Mar&hal 
de la Cour and sundry other great personages, seat to meet 
us at Mola di Gaeta, as well as the king's cooks, china, beds, 
&C. His own self, the next day at Areosa, one stage from 
this town, in a light blue and gold square coat, which, how- 
ever, certainly does not look as well as ours, dined with us, 
or rather we with him, and he brou^t the Princess with lus 
own hand into the house she occupies. 

There were many other honours intended for her, which, 
in her name, I declined, in an o^dal document, directed to 
the Duke of GaJlo, the minister for foreign aSaira, and whidi 
I suppose will some day or other be quoted in the House of 
Commons t 

The two first days here were very arduoqsa : a message 
to the Queen in the morning — then a visit and intioducticui 
to her in fonn, and hei return of the same an hour after — 
then a dinner at court, and a musical party in the evening. 
The following day devoted to receiving all the officers in the 
morning, and going to the Opera with their Majesties in 
their state box ; tlw theatre illuminated, a guard ctf honour, 
eight horses to the carriage, two ladies and a chamberlain 
i^ipointed to attend : in short, for once Mis. Thompson was 
fairly Imocked up, and has kept the house ever since, till this 
day, though not at ell ilL 

This evening we had all the ladies of the Queen's household 
presented, and some En^ish, and thm went to the Opera, 



but only privately, W« have boxes at all the theatres, and 
the court equipages, till our own are organised, and these 
most always lave an equerry and page riding on horseback 
at each door. The ma^iificence and etiquette of this court 
are not to be imagined. The King of Naples is not good- 
looldng, though reckoned so, but very good-^umDured and 
civiL His Queen is, in my opinion, pretty, with an extremely 
good manner, and we are just now very good friends. The 
I^incess's house is in a good situation, but there is not room 
enoti^ for us all, so Gell and myself lodge out of it, «4uch 
arrangement is fffoductive of some advantages. We are 
much happier than we were ; but, for my part, I conld not 
have lastal out three days more of royal travelling ; as I 
grew tired of all my companions, high and low, and felt that 
I was become at once ten years t^ler, and what is worse, 
sixty years Grosser ; so, had the Bay of Ni^es not intervened, 
1 must have eloped. 

I wish you were here instead of there, as there are real 
orange groves without walls, and seas without waves, and 
skies without douds, (thou^ we have had pretty severe 
specimens of rain,) a most magnificent theatre, and the 
most good-bumouied set of pec^le I ever saw, who are inclined 
to admire us very much. Lady Elizabeth Forbes rides the 
royal horses, and seems very luippy, but she wants a 00- 
adjutor. I can assure you ^e regards you highly, notwith- 
standing the deficiency of conversation between yoa at 
Geneva ; but you know I never saw jnu at all there. Lady 
W[estniorlani^ was very agreeable at Fkrence, but attrftmtcd 
her exit from your stage to shyness. 

I believe she is at Rome by this time, as also many more 
of the Fuglifth world, few of which are here. Diea Hard. 
the Rawdons, and Etavys, remain the winter there, wtnch 
is quite a mistake for themselves. There are more carriages 
and people here than one ever saw collected in one torn, 
and the air of gaiety is quite consoling. Gell sends yoa a 
thousand Idnd regards, and we both unite in being 
Your affectionate friends, 

R. K. Craven and W. Gell. 

Another letter, which should have reached me some 
time ago, from Miss [ ], amused me on my joorDey, 



She writes with her usual good sense, but malces a remark 
upon Madame de Stael which is singular, and to me 

Nothing can be a stronger instance of the blindness and 
fallacy of human wishes and expectations, than to hear your 
general feeling of disappointment respecting your residence 
at Geneva. 

You give me quite the idea of having fallen into all the 
conunon-place sort of sensations and habits of Ufe that one 
might enjoy in a large flat English park : and when it comes 
to that, I believe one could not return to the illusions and 
fantastic amusing expectations which filled one's imagination 
|»eviou5ly. Mine paints everything to be delightful there, 
with a very vague shadowy pencil ; but it appears to me 
that I shouM be a different person in my sensations altogether, 
were I in those cotmtries ; and yet when I hear of yo», who 
have so much more youthfulness of spirit and freshness of 
fancy than myself, I must conclude that I should have grown 
completely humdrum in a week — should have made distresses 
of hard (Aairs, deal tables, or ill-dressed dinners — and should 
only have had my eneigies excited to make up a new dress 
for an assembly of five-and-twenty people in a room six feet 
square, lighted with six tallow candles. 

Your description of Copet made me shudder : it must be 

pretty much hke what it was in Lord [ ^]'s time. How 

dreadful to sit up and play at being sublime all day long I 
I envy you everything but that : I would not have been 
there fcH' the world. 

Indeed, I beheve I am a sohtary instance, in the civiHsed 
world, of never desiring to be in company with Madame de 
Stael, to speak to her. At least, if any lady feels with me, 
she would blush to own it. I heard that Akandrina (a name 
for the Princess of Wales) wanted you to tie yourself to her 
skirts abroad. That, I think, would be destroying one of 
the choice benefits of going abroad. I cannot conceive her 
being forced out of the country ; and it was highly impc^tic 
in Her Royal Highness to leave England. It is nonsense to 
judge for another, especially one long persecuted ; but this 
voluntary exile bom Britain has done her harm, even with 
those who take her part. It tells of such an anxious desire 



after mere amusements, such an unfitness for her station, 
such a cowardice under her sufferings, which she bore so 
well for a length of time ! 

Surely, if fixtm no other motive but vanity, she might have 
been induced to remain in the midst of her enemies, and 
never to flee from them, and to be the heroim of the history of 
her time. 

The letter ends with a copy of verses written by Monk 
Lewis, my old friend, the last time he was at [Inverary 

Castle], in Scotland, where Miss [ ] met him to her 

great delight. They are entitled,— 

A tale of wondtr, very surprising, but still more true. 
- When the pale 

And Bileot stars shone, conscioos of the theft. 
Haply they stole unheeded to my chamber. 

Fair PeniUnt, 

Midnight was past, nor yet I sought my bed ; 
Stretch'd on my couch, alone I lay and read. 
Calista-like " loose, unaitired, and warm," 
My night-^wn scarcely veil'd my careless form ; 
Nor less unguarded was my mind ; a flood 
Of generous wine still thrilled within my blood. 
While the soft page o'er which my fancy dwelt 
Taught my whole soul in fond desires to melt. 
'Twas the sad tender tale of Hugh and Anne ; * 
And while their amorous woes I joyed to scan, 
I felt my heart with Uvelier pulses move, 
And all my softened soul attuned to love. 

While thus I lay, lo I voices, soft but clear. 
Stole in sweet whisperings on my ravish'd ear ; 
Near and more near they come — the door expands I 
I start — look round — the book forsakes my l^ds I 
Scarce can I think my senses to be right. 
So bri^t a vision blazes on my sight I 
* The Mysterioos Discovery. 



Three nymphs, more blocMniiig than those heavenly maids 
Who bl^ the Arabian seers' enchanted shades, 
Pour'd their ripe beauties on my dazzled eye. 
And in their midst sustain'd a huge goose-pye. 
" Oh 1 hie is short," they sang with dulcet sound. 
And moved, with graceful dance, the pjre around. 
" Oh t life is short, and pleasure speeds away, 
Soon fades the rose, and raven locks turn grey ; 
Then wise are they who sdze the passing hour. 
And, ere its bloom is wither'd, crop the flower. 
Oh t come, blest youth, and share our soft delist. 
Oh I come, blest youth, the joys of goose invite I 
Mark the bright blush which mantles on our cheeks. 
And amorous hearts and secret wishes speaks ; 
Hark the rich odours from the pye, which rise. 
And speak it stufi'd with garlic, salt, and sj»ce. 
Hence with dull wisdom's saws and grave behest, 
True wisdom means the secret to be blest ; 
Yield, then, and say, when monks their prudence boast. 
He shows most prudence who enjoys the most. 
I listen'd, look'd, and long'd, by turns survey'd 
Now the goose-pye, and now each white-robed maid ; 
Now hunger led me towards the savoury pye. 
But the fair nymphs recall'd me with a sigh ; 
Now leaving that, I basten'd towards those. 
But then the pasty cai^bt me by the nose. 
I-ess strongly tempted, grandsire Adam fell, ■; 

Eve ruin bought with a hard nonpareil : 
More powerful bribes did Satan here produce, ' 

My Eves were three, and season'd was the goose. 
Could I resist ? Ob I no t I yield, I cried ; - • 

When, lo t my guardian genius at my side 
Clapp'd his white wings, and bade, in colours true, ' 
Next morning's breakfast shock my mental view. 
How shall I bear the just and stem rebuke 
Of Tom * the abstemious and the stoic duke ? f 
How moral scom, immaculate surprise, 
Wm flash through Garthmore's supplemental eyes I } 
• T. Sheridan. f I>"ke of ArgyU, 

I Mr. Graham, of Garthmore, wore spectacles constantly, [Original 



What wrath will furious Ifi. Toms display t 
And, Oh t ye gods I what will Miss Dickson say ? 

That last appalling thought re-nerved my mind — 

Avaimt ! I cried, and ttmce my breast I sign'd ; 

And thrice I named Aurelia in my prayer. 

And thrice I Idss'd the bracelet of her hair ; 

That powerful charm prerail'd : their cheat made plain. 

Demoniac shrieks exprest the tempters' pain ; 

Sulphureous flashes from the goose-pye broke. 

The seeming nymphs were wrapt in flame and smoke. 

To brimstone hue was changed their white attire, 

And all their petticoats were flounc'd with fire. 

Swift up the chimney past the infernal flight, 

And all the viskm van^'d from my sight 




jAT Lycms I met the two Madame de C[ ]. 

/% The yout)^ one is a woman of marked 

/ '- % features, not handsome, but has a consider- 
^ m. able deal of character in her countenance. 
They proposed to take me out in their carriage, which I 
accepted, and accordingly we went to view the general 
appearance of the town. I had not leisure to enter into 
any of the pubhc buildings, but we drove along the quays, 
and saw the confluence of the Rhone and Saone, and 
beheld the beautiful banks which rise by the side of the 
latter river. The flat plains which skirt the Rhone are 
not so picturesque. The Cathedral of St. John is a fine 
building, and has sufiered little from time and the storms 
of the Revolution. 

I dined with Madame C[ ]. Her husband is the 

most unpleasant-looking and onpleasant-mannered man 
I ever met ; — little in his person, his head flat and square, 
and his hair sticking out like an unfledged sparrow. He 
seemed to consider he was conferring an honour when he 
addressed me, and bummed a tune between his teeth all 

the evening. Poor T[ — — ] C[ ] was evidently much 

worse than when I last saw him, and though I affected 
to talk of meeting him again at Nice, I have no hope of 
doing so. It is diCKcolt to know how seriously or how 
lightly a person in his situation wishes one to ccmsider 
bj !^ malady. 



We went to the play : the " Magnifique," by Gretiy, 
and the " Nouveau Seigneur du Villi^e," were performed. 
The actors were very indifferent, and they acted as if 
they had been going to sleep : but no wonder, for although 
the theatre is attended every evening, it is entirely as a 
place of resort, and no one ever pretends to listen to the 
performance, much less to applaud. This indifference in 
the audience must of course produce the same feeling in 
the actors. I ventured, however, to applaud once, and, 
as if the people had suddenly been touched by some 
magical wand, they all began to applaud one after another. 
It is comical to observe this awakening from lethargy, 
and the effect it produced on the poor actors. Madame 

de C[ ] remarked this, and it was not my own fancy 

suggested the idea, how easy it is to give an impulse to 
public feeling I There is something gratifying, and some- 
thing humiliating, at the same moment, in the reflection, 
that the sjrmpathies of our fellow-creatures are so eabdy 
aroused to a unison with our own, and yet as readily 
ttimed towards those of the next person whose interest 
it may be to excite them to a feeling probably the very 

We revisited the cathedral next morning. I expressed 
the sense of religious awe with which such buildings, 
particularly those of Gothic architecture, alwajrs inspire 
me, and, in the enthusiasm of the moment, I said some- 
thing in favour of the Roman Catholic religion, whose 

imposing forms captivate my fancy. Madame de C[ ] 

replied, shaking her head, that it was the worst of all 
modes of worship ; "would to heaven that the Revolu- 
tion, qui nous avoit emport6 tant de choses, eftt emport^ 
celle-la." *' And why ? " I said. " Because it leads to 
all sorts of mischief." " CertaiiJy," said her mother-in- 
law, looking round at some poor persons kneeling|^ia 
different parts of the church ; — " certainly they are more 
religious than we are." " Religioas I " rejoined the 



other ; *' they pray here for a few minutes, and return to 
aU sorts o£ vices and crimes." 

I think this remark was intolerant ; for, if indeed ill- 
disposed persons avail themselves of this veil to con- 
science, the good, as in all other religions, remain good, 
and do not pervert the meaning of the promise held out 
alike to all Christians, of pardon in return for penitence. 
Ad indolence of tongue, and dislike to all dispute, made me 
silent ; but in the evening again, at the Opera, the men- 
tion of Madame de Stael's last work, " Germany," led the 

conversation to serious subjects. Madame de C( ], 

who appears to me to be a clever and deep-thinking 
person, admired the whole of it without reserve, and said, 
she thought nothing could be more luminous than the 
manner in which Madame de Stael spoke of the different 
systems of metaphjrsical philosophy ; and the only thing 
^le regretted, was, that some extracts of Kant's writings 
had not been inserted. 

I have myself read bis works, and I think nothing can be 
more lucid than his style, or more easy to be understood. 

Madame C[ ] went on to say, that she conceived 

Madame de S{_ 's] ideas upon religion, the most pro- 
found and the most true she had ever heaxd ; in fact, she 
said, nothing is more probable than that one universal 
lehgion should at length be broi^ht about, as the 
Bcripture promises, by the influence of some of those 
intermediate sects which are not allowed to belong to the 
Established Churches. 

In the gospel we are there decidedly promised one uni- 
versal peace and one universal gospel ; and by what 
means are we most likely to obtain this ? By some of 
those modifications of our religious worship which we 
condemn. ' The Roman CathoUc is too bigoted, too cruel 
in its doctrines, to admit of any tolerance. The Episcopal 
is too proud, the Presbyterian too stem : some other 
then must interfere. 



Madame de C[ ] then continued to discuss some 

remark I made upon the fault found by the curious, not 
with the book, but with the author ; as they alleged, that 
the sentiments which pervaded Madame de Stael's 
Allemagne, were not her own, but differed entirely from 
all she had ever thought or written previously, and were 
only assumed opinions to suit the fashion of the hour. 
I had said, that in repeating this insidious remark, I 
desired not to be implicated in having framed it, for that 
I knew Madame de Stael to be incapable of suiting her 
sentiments or feelings, even to expediency, and that I 
perfectly believed in her sincerity, and did not think 
an ofnnion less deserving of acceptance, because it was 
one adopted from conviction, even allowing it had not 
alwa3rs been that which she professed. *' I do not con- 
sider at all," observed Madame de C[ ], " the author 

of a book, but only the work itself abstractedly, and I 
think the work we are now speaking of is one of the most 
perfect and most extraordinary, to be a woman's writing, 
I ever read." 

Madame de C[ ] praised Miss Porter's " Scottish 

Chiefs," and said, it quite monUd her imagination about 
Scotch persons and Scotland. Had she known the excel- 
lent and high-minded authoress, she would have added an 
additional note of praise on the rare character of the writer. 

Madame de C[ ] gave me an instance of sincerity 

in religious profession, in a person who, after having 
enjoyed all the luxuries and pomps of the world, and the 
pleasures which they bestow, and incurred great blame 
from her conduct, had, whilst still young and extremely 
'rich, forsaken the world entirely, and dedicated all her 
wealth and time to the poor. It was Madame deKruitzaer, 
[Krudener] personally known to Madame de C[ ]. 

The next day I left Lyons, and embarked on the 
Rhone. I lodged at a miserable cabaret, called Le 
Hulet Blanc, at Vienne. The women who attended us 



were very civil, bat the landlord was extremely rude and 
exorbitant in his charge for his miserable fare. He told 
my courier that les Anglois had done him much mischief, 
and they should pay for it. 

When daylight discovered to my view the beautiful 
Rhone, winding majestically through its h^h vine- 
covered banks, with the remains of some Roman anti- 
quities peeping out occasionally, I forgot all animal 
inconvenience in the mental enjoyment of such a scene. 

In an old tower, at the top of the hill, my cicerone 
informed me there lay the remains of a Scotch lady who 
died at the cabaret where I slept, of the name of Sterkey, 
and that a man who was her hiisband, or who called him- 
self such, had erected a mausoleum to her memory ; but, 
in the time of the Revolution, it had been destroyed. The 
circumstance of a foreigner being buried at the top of 
that high mountain, in unconsecrated ground, far away 
from friend or relative, and the melancholy manner of hsc 
death, furnished matter for imagination to work upon. 
Perhaps she fell a victim to unholy and unhappy love ; 
perhaps — in short, I imagined many things about the 
poor lady who lay beneath the green sward. 

My old cicerone, who called herself Veuve Giroux, 
entertained me all the way with her eloquent lamentations 
on the horrors which she had witnessed during the times 
of revolutionary fury, and subsequently of ambitfejus 
tyranny, it was impossible not to sympathise in her 
unaffected expressions : she tossed her withered arms 
about with that impressive gesture which genuine feeling 
never fails to inspire. It is from observing such natural 
impulses of the heart, that all descriptions of the passions 
should be copied ; it they have not been actually felt, it is 
impossible for imagination, however vivid, to impart even 
their reflectedjimage. "On n'osoit dire la messe," 
(publicly,) said Veuve Giroux. " Yet some few did so. 
I always went, and rien ne m'est arrive. I was baptised 



dans I'Eglise, and I like to say my prayers there. I never 
felt afraid of the armed men." 

Between her lamentations she called to a child, (belong- 
ing to a family who bad come in the same boat with 
myself,) saying, *' Prenez garde, ma mie," as it ran care- 
lessly on the edge of the precipice. It seemed as if 
tenderness was the burthen of her song, and after such 
personal miseries, it was the more amiable, for they are apt 
to harden the heart. How much people lose of the know- 
ledge of human nature, who never mix but with one 
cirde of persons 1 

I inquired for the famous tower of Pontius Pilate, 
which, by tradition, is said to have been situated here ; 
but there are no remains of it now. The cathedral in the 
town is of gothic structure, its principal front richly 
carved and much ornamented, but the interior is dilapi- 
dated, the chapels destroyed, and the fine gloom which 
clothes such ancient piles with a vestment of grandeur, 
is entirely lost, by some pious souls having painted the 
walls of a bright blue and white. — I rested afterwards at 
the house of a Monsieur Loriol : he was an old man with 
a white ribbon in his button-hole, and a good-humoured 
countenance, which became ten times more beaming upon 
our informing him, when he made the inquiry if I knew 

the Lady K[ ] as he called her, that I was acquainted 

with her. " Ah 1 " said he, " she is an excellent lady ; 
she lived here eighteen months, and made drawings of all 
the ruins in the ne^hbourhood. She had a very cross 
mother, but was herself a most amiable person " ; and 
then he showed me two of Miss K[ ]'s gifts to him- 
self, a pocket-book and snufE-box, of which, with some 
Derbyshire spar, he seemed very proud. On one side 
of his apartments was hung a picture of Bonaparte, 
(a copy of Monsieur Girard's portrait of him,) and on the 
other, as a pendant, a likeness of the Pope. This arrange- 
ment put me in mind of the old song of Bartlemy Fair — 



" Here's the Tower of Babylon, the Devil, and the Pope," 
&c. &c. 

The next night we disembarked at a small village 
called Bctuf. On my admiring the carving of an ivory 
crucifix, hung in the sitting-room of the carbaret, the 
landlady told me she had been obliged to hide it till very 
lately ; " but," said she, " strong as man's oppression is, 
religion is stronger." It is gratifying to find that the 
demoralization which the Revolution has caused in sdl 
classes of society, has still left some unpolluted, and 
steadfast in their faith. I have met with several 
striking instances of this fact, but chiefly amongst the 

The next day there was an awful thunder storm. One 
peal reminded me of the dreadful thtmder-bolt which 
fell at Kensington Palace. I never heard so loud a one 
since, but yet no harm was done, neither did any bolt 
fall this time. Certainly the extraordinary storm which 
happened when I was dining at the Palace at Kensington, 
might in other times have been deemed a forerunner of the 
poor Princess's troubles. The declaration of the King's 
hopeless insanity, the establishment of the Regency, and 
consequent desertion of the great and powerful persons 
of ' the realm from Her Royal Highnesses society, which 
immediately followed, were but too true a fulfilment of 
the omen. 

To return to my Journal. 

The next night I stopped at St. Valli^. Again my 
landlady was a pleasant, communicative person, and, as 
usual, spoke of the tyrant Bonaparte, and the misery 
his reign had brought upon the country. The Veuve 
Garden informed me she was by birth an Irishwoman, 
her maiden name O'Farrel. She was not handsome, yet 
had some of the attributes attendant on beauty ; good 
teeth, a thick and richly coloured lip, sensible eyes, and 
marked eyebrows. The tone of her voice, too, was 



mellow and flexible at the same time. She told me she 
bad sent one of her children to a place among the moun- 
tains, where there was a race of persons who had never 
been civilized. Among these she represented the con- 
scription to have been borne with the greatest impatience. 
The desertions were so frequent, that after families bad 
paid their all to ransom their children, and when the 
soldiers ventured to take them away again by force of 
arms, the parents said, *' There — you will have him — there 
he is — he shall not desert again," and often shot or 
stabbed their sons to the heart. 

At Avignon I found several letters, one from the 
Princess of Wales, giving an unsatisfactory account of 
ber poor royal self (dated Milan). 

Je viens de recevoir votre charmante lettre — toujours 
encore de Gen^e. Nous sommes iris bien id. L'Opera est 
superbe, et Le Marechal Bellegarde poli pour nous, au possible : 
beaucoup d' strangers, et suitout Monsieur Ward. Ce Luodi 
le 18 je quitte pour Florence, et puis a Rome, jusqu'a ce que 
ma frigate arrive pour me garder a Naples. J'ai justement 
recue la nouvelle que Le Roi De Naples (Murat) k recu I'ordre 
de L'Empereur D'Autriche et les Allife, de quitter son Roy- 
amne d'abord. Si tel est le cas, qu'il cMe la place trauquille- 
ment, je m'y rend d'abords. Si non, il faudrait s'etablir i 
Palermo pour I'biver, Je vous regrette toujours d'avaotage. 
Car on me oblige beaucoup k la Maison. Le reste du monde 
est fort agr^ble, et me comble d'attention. Demain je 
penserai tnen k vous^^ar il yaxoB. au Theatre un Bal Masqud. 
J'en esp&e beaucoup, adieu, ^crivez moi bien bientflt. 

Mademoiselle Dumont * est bonne fille, cependant elle n'a 
point invents la poudre. Mais tout vk bien. Croyez moi 
pour la vie, votre iiis sincere et afiectionnS amie, 

C. P. 

* Uademcdselle Dmnont was hired for the Princess by a moat 

respectable person in the iamily of l^ady C. C[ ]1 ; but either she 

was not, in the sequel, proof against the temptations she vas exposed 
to, or else she must originaUy have been of dot^lful ekaracUt, as her 
•ubseqnent conduct was not what it ooght to have been. [Original 



Letter from Mr. Kepfel Craven. 
Dated thns — Naples, New Year's Day, iSij, of which 
1 niah yon many happy retiuiu. 

My dear [ ], — Colonel D'Axlincourt, who I hope wiD 

put this mto yonr own hands, will tell you that he left us all 
well, and how agreeable we are. But as he will not be equally 
descriptive oi his own merits, I must beg yon to believe they 
are very great, as you will soon discover, if he gives you 
time. His wife also is a most cbarming person, and we all 
doat upon her, and mean to take care of her during his absence. 
If you ask him what is done at Naples on New Year's Day, 
you wUl find that it is wonderful I can write even one line to 
you ; but Her Royal Highness is so fatigued with a masked 
ball she gave last ni^t, that she has wisely curtailed all het 
share of the perfoimances till the evening. 

I have only been to the Te Deum at the Royal Chapel with 

E[ ], and have a Uttle while to dispose of before dinner. 

After it, the Princess will hold her usual Simday court, which 
is expected to be. more than usually brilliant, and then pro- 
ceeds to the Palace with all her suite, to accompany the King 
and Queen to the Opera in their state box. The theatre fa 
illuminated on the occasion, and of course everything very 
magnificent. All the male part of the court wear Henri 
Quatre dresses, which are so entirely covered with embroidery 
that ours, whatever figure they might have cut on the Lake 
of Geneva, merely look like smock-frocks at the foot of 

Last night Her Royal Highness gave a masked ball at a 
small villa of the Queen's, where there is a very pretty garden 
actually in the sea. It went ofE very well, and there were 
many quadrilles danced by parties, which gave the whole 
thing an air of gaiety, quite unknown in our climate ; but 
you will judge what an atmosphere this is when one can 
walk out i la Vauxhall in an illuminated garden on the last 
night of the year. The LlandafEs are here, and a few more 
English families, who all pay the properest attention to Her 
Royal Highness ; and, indeed, situated as she is with the 
coart, they must do so In their own defence, but at the same 
tune I give them all due credit for it. I had a letter from 
Lady Westmoreland a few days ago, but I conclude she, or 





Lady D[ ], or some of the Engli^ that are there, have 

written to you. I hope they will not come here ; for except 
the present company, and the two Lady Charlottes. I do not 
wish to see any more Britannic faces here while we stay. 

I am happy to say we go on well. There have been clouds, 
but they were all inierior, and I believe none of the natives 
are at all disposed to blame, but on the contraiy, strive to 
do thdr utmost to please and to amuse. I am quite deter- 
mined that it is the only place to live in, and am only fearful 
that we shall be tired of it, sooner than /. Gdl b in w^ting, 
OT would have written to you. Her Royal Highness writes, 
I believe, by Colonel lyArlincourt. 
Believe me ever, 

Your veiy sincere and attached 

K. C 

From the Princess of Wales. 

C# <!««/ dt Janvier, a Naplbs. 

Depnis hior j'ai recu votre seconde lettre, de la date du 
quatorze Decembre. Je me tronve fort malheureuse qu'au- 
cune de mes lettres ne vous sont enfin airivfi. Vous scavez 
combient je vous sois sincfrement attachfe, et combien je 
deaire en tout tempe et lieu de vous le prouver. Je crains 
que vous ne m'accusi de neghgence, et peut^tre d'oublie ; 
ne CToyez rien de tout cela, et croyez seulement que la Poste 
est vrairoent horrible, et d'une incertitude afireuse. Au 
reste, les lettres sont tons lu partout, avant qu'il passe, et 
puis sont copi4 ; les miens sont envoys pour la critique de 
L'Angleterre, pour etre reveu, et corrig^. Ce qui me fait 
trembler chaque fois que je prends la plume en main. Soyez 
tres persuade que Naples est actuellement tout remfdi d'e»- 
pions. J'en connoit idusieures, qui sont cach^, et 1« autres 
qu'ils se montre pubhquement. Quad meme, je mene la 
vie la plus tranquille du monde, et ne suis lier avec personne. 
Les mceurs sont bien stricte actuellement, et 11 y'a beaucoup 
d'etiquette partout ; ce qui k ainsi fait change Naple, en fait 
d'amusement, et qui me couviens, car il est triste comme je 
sent mon coeur. 

Je n'ai pas encore re^u une ligne de ma Fille. Ce qui 
m'inquiete beaucoup. Ibnsieur St Leger est le seul personne 
qui m'fcrive. Le dimat est Uen dooz, mais beaiKOnp de 



pluie, et d'humidit^, mais cela me convtens. An reste, je 
suis a cbannte d'etre etabUfquelque part que je me contente 
de tout biec als^eot. Lady Oxford o'est pas id a la mode 
du tout. La Reine ne peut la soufirir ; Qs soDt dans des 
embarras terrible pour de I'argent, et j'ai 6t£ oblige de lui 
domier mille ducats en present. Elle cxnnpte de vendre la 
plus grande partie de ses diamonds a la Reine. Ont la trouve 
nullement plus belle id ; ont parle d'elle comme d'une per- 

sonne qui est absolumeat pass^. Lady £[ ] est appele 

La Petite Folle. Elle court apres tout les lu»nmes, et surtout 
apres notre Roi. Ce que la Reine n'aime gu&%. Hais cepen- 
dant il n'y a pas le moindre espoir de trouver un man id, et 
encore moins de filer le parfaiie Amour. Nous avons . . . 
(words nibble) toute ma cceur Aussibien que la petite basse 
cow, et je ne la vois jamab. Je dine bien des jours pour 
oette raison seule dans ma petite Coquille & m'instruire, et 
mene une vie contemplative : je pourrois ^cnie mie volume. 
Cher ... si j'etais sOre que ce diifion vous arrivil sans que 
cela fut lu. Mais comme I'incertitude est la base de notre 
existence, il iaut agir en consequence. Ecrivez moi souvent 

et tous ce que vous faites. Le bon K[ ] sera toujours le 

Men venu, Le Sieur Priam vient d'arrivi id. Lady West- 
moreland n'arrive qu'au printemps; les Hollands, et les 
Bedfords aussi. (Sc»ne words ille^ble.) 

Je propose faire un petit voyage par mer aussitot que 
Liuly Charlotte Lindsay arrive id. Et pentetre je voos 
recontrerez a Genes ou a Marseilles pour I'automme, pour 
vous ramener id au mois d'Octobre. Voila des plans de bien 
loin. Je donnerai milles ^cus pour une heure de conversation, 
mais combien c'est cruelle que je n'ai pas une etre i qui ouvrir 
mon coeiir. Mais soyez toujours bien persuadfe qu'absente 
on preseote vous etes toujonis prds de m<H, et que je languis 
Inen apres cette heuieux moment, et que je suis pour la vie 
votre affectionni, 

C. P. 
Letter from Mrs. D[aueb ? ]. 

Dated London, Jan. loth, 1815. 

Deak [ ], — First I must b^in by all best wishes for 

your hap[Mness, this and many succeeding new years. Then 
I have to tell you, that I now, since my last letter, have every 



reason to believe that you will find no difficulty in passing 
your time where you ^ease, without troubling the Frigate 
for a conveyance, and that your excuse on the score of health 
will be readily accepted. 

H[ 1 read me a letter just received from Mrs. Thompson 

to Col. St. Leger, saying how much she enjoyed her present 
residence, where she "led a sedentary life." She would 
" have him come to her, with all his farnily," but not a word 
of the means so to do ; which I think clearly indicates that 
all her present invitations are mere flourish , and from a 
conviction that they will not be accepted. 

Hrs. Thompson's most agreeable head servants are both 
leaving her ; {I doubt not a sort of mutual inteUigence ;) but 
they are leaving her. The one is going to meet his mother, 
and the other, I beheve, retumii^ to England ; * only Lord 
[Hr.] H[ollan]d remains, who, she says, is " a great comfort 
to her." One other man, I should suiqmse, also remains ; 
but of him, in these last accounts, I have heard nothing. I 
leave you to make your own comments on all this. You will, 
I think, bug yourself to think that ^u are out of this mess. 

I saw the most entertaining letter possible, from C[ ] 

to B[ ], in which he describes, in the most ludicrous way, 

not only the bustle, but the perpetual whirl, of the journey 
and of Naples. This is well' contrasted with Mis. Thompson's 
" sedentary life." 

Have you heard that the Besboroughs and Ponsonbys were 
nearly lost in their passage down the Rhone ? It is odd that 
C[raven] should not in his last letter have mentioned his inten- 
tion of coming away ; but as be said that all letters to certain 
persons in particular are opened by the N[aplesj government, 
this accounts for his not saying all he might otherwise. Mrs. 
Thompson's letter was positive as to his and his friend's leaving 

Letter from Mr. Gell to [ ,] at Nice. 

Dated Naples, Jan. iglk, 1615. Avery hot day — looldiig 
over the sea — and in waiting. 

My dear [ ], — After so many months and years, I 

have at last heard from you ; but as you accuse me of 
* Mr. Craven went to meet bis mottier, the Uargravine of Anspach; 
Ur. Gell desired to retnni to England. 



ne^igence, I cannot help Fetorting by a Unt that yoa only 

wrote to me because yon find yoniseU obliged to enclose 
a letter to my address. Oh ! thoa most fair, yet false of 

thy sex. I have heard from my aimt, Mrs. D[ }, and 

have every reason to believe that I shall have the fortone 
at last, ita her letter is very kind ; and if she joins you in 
the spring, as she threatens, " too much famihaiity breeds 
contempt," and, therefore, the fortune must inevitably be 

As to any lady's account of a place, iriiethex there is society 
CO' not, or wheUier the climate is good, no person who has 
seen so much of the world as I have, makes much acconnt of 
it, for there are a great many En^i^ here, vibo, for a long 
time, found out there was no society at Naples, and that the 
climate of London was equal, if not superior. Blind as they 
are, what is one to say to them, except to cite the ntt^ 
impossibility of having a masquerade in a garden on the 
night preceding the first of January (as we bad here) in 
London, and showing one's own invitations to dinners and 
suppers ; not to mention places where one can go without 
invitation whenever one jdeases 7 You may depend on it, 
you and all the Eo^Ush are strange animals. Here is arrived 
my ^ter-in-law's sister, Madame De Poller Vemaud, from 
near Lausanne, who either knew you or heard of you there 
this summer, but of course Uttle good, or I would let you 
know. As to Lady Charlotte Lindsay, she is quite cxnne 
into favour again ; but whether because I did not write to 
her, or not, I cannot telL* The truth is, that I have been 
coming ioi her every day, for these two months, in a Nea- 
poUtan frigate, to Nice, as it was thought she would be afraid 
of a foreign ship, alone, till at last news of two ships of our 
own arrived, so I wrote to her to say, I really can advise all 
good ^Christians to come to Naples ; for, excepting houses, 
everything is very cheap, and a good carriage costs only, 
with coachman included, 12s. 6d. per day. 

Mrs. Thompscoi had an idea of hiring Lady Oxford's house 
next door, and persuading Lady C. Campbell to come and 
occupy it. I wish Her Royal Highness would try and mala 

* The Princess of Wales was ridicnloasly jealous of Sir W. Cell's 
liking or paying attentioo to any one else, more than to heneU. 
[Ori^nal not«.] 



Ha Xante Aorore accept this invitation ; it would do ver> 
well, if tbe said Oxfonls quitted it. The Oxfords say tliat 
they can live perfectly well for 3000 a-year, provided they 
have only what is necessary ; but a carnage is included in 
the said necessaries, and a tutor for the ugly boy, and a 
doctor for the oaughty girls, besides all the lumiture they 
spoil or destroy, which cannot be tiifing ; and four thousand 
dresses, with gold embroidery, for the little Alfred ; and 
last, but not least, many dogs, who have not left one comer 
of the carpet nor a single silk chair, without holes. 

Inspired by these awful reflections, my paper seems to be 
finished. I see, every day and every hour, more reasons 
why people should never marry, and why I shall never be in 
love with a lady of fashion. I see sighs and tears lavished on 
one, and as quickly bursting and dropping from another. No ; 
inspite of those smiles of Lady C[harlotte] C[ampbell], which 
might seduce one's weak heart for a moment, I shall never be 
really in love with her. Tell her so, and, that she may give 
way to all those elegant effusions of sentimentality in her 
next letter, which so eminently distinguish her from the other 
inhabitants of the civilised world. Add, that my judgment 
will not be perverted by the state of my heart, wUch is 
adamant, and I shall be able to give her excellent counsel, 
where prudence, patience, chastity, temperance, and the best 
of the virtues of northera climates, want of opportunity, 
and barren bills, are required. We expect Lady Charlotte 
Lindsay daily. Love to Lord and Lady Glenbervie. Oh 1 
fie, Hr. Dou{^ ? 

Your most affectionate aunt, 

Anna Taylor. 
Alias WiLUAM Cell. 

Tuesday, tist of February, 1815, Nice. — Read some 
Italian letters of Gallileo's and Raphael's, more for the 
names of the writers than the matter of the lettras. 
How dull they are ! how many letters written by less 
extraordinary persons, are ten thousand times more 
interesting. I went to visit Madame Davidoff, and Miss 

M. M[ ] came in whilst I was there. The fonner told 

me the Princess Grassalcovitch had conhded to her. 



that at first she had preferred Lady S[ ] to all the 

other Enghsh ladies here, and had been prepared to 

hke her from what the Duchess of ^ ] had said in 

her praise, but that latterly she had liked Lady C. Camp- 
bell best, and thought her more natural. Nuts to me 1 
It is always sweet to hear one's friend praised. Went 
out to walk : a fine day, but no inspiration came to me. 
Passed the evening in reading Sismondi, &c. 

Wednesday night, 22nd. — I received two letters from 
the Princess ; one broi^bt by a gentlem2in of the name 
of [ ]. It was by way of being a letter of introduc- 
tion from Her Royal Highness to me, but such a one as, 
I suppose, nobody was ever himself the bearer of. I 
laughed heartily when I read it, in the presence of the 
person, but endeavoured to be as poUte as I could, and 
he fortunately remained in ignorance of the bad character 
the Princess had given him. Here it is : — 

LeUer from the Princess of W[ ] to [ — — ]. 

Dated Naples, c« d#X— ] Ftvrier, 1815. 
Ma CHiRE, — ^Je vous annonce mon anivi a Nice pour le 
m<u de Mars, ou je me flatte que je vous trouverai en parfaits 
saBtg, et je ferais des arrangements finalement pour notre 
retour pour Londre, qui sera pour I'hiver prochaln. 
Adieu, croyez moi pour la vie, 

Votre afiectionfc Amie, 

P.S. — ^Le pcoteur de cette lettre est une personne qui ne 
dit jamais la vent£ : il est un Espion de la Cabal 1 

AnoOier from the same to the same. 
Ma CstRE, — ^Je snis domicilii id, (tepnis le hnit Novonbre, 
un peu fatigufe du long voyage, et de mes companions de 
voyage d'infortune. Ma maison est plac£ rue La Chiaja, 
comme je suppose que vous avals d^ji entendue par Mr. 
Craven, et vous vous rappellerez bien autre foi de cette pro- 
menade de la Villa Reale. La situation est superbe, et la 



maison est elegant. Jc troore Ni^des nollement cher A 
vivre, et si je teste Id avec ,(18,000, j'aurai fait tous les 
deponse et extravagance, possible. J'ai deja donn4 un grand 
bal an Roi et a la Reine, et on bal en masque le demler jonr 
de I'annte ; et avec 1800 ducats ces f^tes, qui (comme ont 
m'assure) et^ tres splendide, cmt 6t6 payi. 

D y'a beaucoup d'Anglois id. Lord Sligo, Lord et Lady 
LandafE, le General Matthew, et beaucoup de jeunes homines ; 
Monsieur Perceval, fils du feu ministie ; je les vol tous les 
semaines une fcH, chez moi a un grand diner ; il vont donnir 
la semaine prochaine,* un grand bal au Roi et a la Reine ; 
car apres la declaration de Monsieur Vansittart, le Roi Murat 
& vti reoonnu par I'Angleteire, et it le merite bien, car le bien 
qo'il a fait au royamne, n'est point a dire : il est aussi ador4 
que la Reine. La Reine est extremmement jolie, spirituelle, 
fort afiable, et fait les boneurs de la cour parf aitement bien. 

Le Roi est beau, gai, poUe, toujours gradeux, et faisant 
toujours des actions genereiu, car U est le Dlcu de la bien- 
faisance. Je me trouve bien id sur tout les rapports. Lft 
society est sxceUente, beaocoop de beaux Uessieurs et infini- 
ment de JoUes dames a la oour du Roi et de la Reine. Comme 
je suis ^Uie id pour quelque temps, j'al deja ecrit trob 
lettrcs i Lady Charlotte lindsay pour la faire venir Id, oa 
avec les Glenbervies on avec lb. F. North, pour passer quelqu* 

* This it moet probably the ball of which Madams de Bo^e wiita* : 
" During the previous carnival, which she [the Princew of Wales] 
had just spent et Naples, she conceived the idea of inducing the resident 
EagUah to give a nbacription ball to Mniat. The scene took place 
in a public hall. At the moment of Moraf s arrival a group ol the 
prettiest Endiahwoaien, dressed like goddeasss from Olympus, advanced 
to recdve him . . . and cdnducted him to a platform wheie tb« 
curtains opened and showed the spectators a group of symbolical flgares 
incladlng Renown, a cbaiacter sustained by one ef the pretty Haiiey 
ladies. Glory, who was r e pr ese nted by the Princess [of Wales], even 
more ridiculouily dressed than the others, tripped forward, took a 
feather from the wing of Renown, and wrote in large golden letters 
upon a panel which she held !tbe names of the difierent battles in 
which Murat had disttnguished himself. The spectators roared with 
laughter and applauded, while the Queen of Naples shrugged her 
shoulders. ... I heard the story of this performance from Lady 
Charlotte Campbell, the last of the ladies of honour to abandon her. 
She wept with vexation as she spoke, but her story was only the more 
fTTni'-p' in consequence. It was necessary to have tiie bercdne before one 
to appreciate the lidicnlona element to the fnU." [Hemoin, iL 40-41.] 



temps ict. Au [vmtemps je me ptopoat de me rendie par 
mer. Si jamais ma frigate arrive a Rome, le Roi m'a offert 
s<Mi palais de Famesd pour ma demeure, ainsi je crois en 
profiter. Je n'ai fait que passer six jours a Rome et n'a fait 
que courir apres les curiosity et antiquity de I'ancieime 
Rome : je me propose aussi de me rendre par mer a Gtees, 
de voir Venice, et les lies Grecques, et puis de revenir a 
Naples au moi d'Octobre ; j'ai n'ai jamais recue des lettres 
de la main propre de ma fiQe, ce qui me chagrine beaucoup 
quand m£me je n'ai fait quede lui ^crire plusde cent lettr^ 
depuis mon depart. Je serai tranquile id si ce cuysante 
chagrin ne n'avrte point mon cceur. Mais tel va le monde : 
quand un est finie, il se trouve un autre cheminant tout pret 
I prendc sa pla^:e. 11 y'a ausd tout pleins d'espion id : tm 
certain Monsieur Zuriton, un palfroiier, fr^ du Colonel 

Zuriton, du lo regiment De H[ ^J, et ajontft a cela des 

Messieurs qui voyage sous oo titre n honcHable, et qui m€mes 
s'en glorifie, car il n'en font pas m€me le moindre secret a 
ce sujet. 

Voila comme les Anglois sent connu, puisque m£me Qs se 
vante d'avoir un poste si honorable a supporter. Mais bouche 
close : ce sont des vrais misdres. Je vis tranquilement et 
ce n'est que depuis qnelques jours que je commence a sortir. 
Dans les sodetids priv4s la Princesse Belmont^ m'a donn^ 
un superbe bal, et la Princess Caramanico une autre. Les 
ministres du Roi qui sont de ce pays sont amiaUe, et on 
beaucoup d'espiit, et domie chacun des bals masqu£, tons 
les semaines qui est le Mecredi. [iU^ible] au theatre de St. 
Carlo, outre les bals. 

Je me retire toujours de bonne heure ; tous commence a 
huit heure, et jamais des soupers, il ne sont pas id de modes, 
ainsi a onze heure je me trouve au lit : les auties peisonnes 
dancent jusqua trois heure du matin sans jamais soaper, ni 
s'asseoir. II y'a beaucoup d'etiquette i la cour, ce qui rend 
la sodet^ un peu formal, la decence est pouss^ a un point que 
m&ne Whitbread et Lady Elizabeth en seroit edifi^ : dites 
tout pa a Madame D[amerP],eUe ne reconnoitera plus Naples, 
pour les mceurs ; aussi beaucoup d' Anglois le trouve une en- 
droit forte ennuyante quand m^e il sont oblig^ d'avouer, 
que la sodet£ id est infinement plus agr^ble qn'a Pans 



Pour reconomie je vous avoue que je crois vnuement que 
vous et toute la l^nille de votre cousine pouirai vivre pom- 
la moiti^ de ce que ca coute ailleurs, j'en suis bien sure. 
J'espiie que vous viendrai au mois d'Octobre. Je payerais 
le voya^ par terre on par mer, comme cela vous coovendra 
le mieux. Monsieur Hesse heureusemeot part dans trois 
jonis. J'dspere que Lady Elizabeth se leutoumera avec lui, 
si Lady Charlotte Lindsay est arriv^ id a temps. Monsieur 
Craven j'dspere aussi sera loin chez sa m^ qui se trouve a 
Marseilles : en£n cette cour grecque et pbilos^ibe sont dans 
I'interieur des vraies tyrants et des hommes fort peu fait 
poiu- faire les honneurs d'une cour Anglaise.* 

Adieu, je vous supplie de faire mes plus tendres amitife 
a tout la monde qui se rappel^ de moi : Mademoiselle Dumont 
est bien bonne fille, et nous sommes toujours tranquilement 

Cn^rez mois pour la vie votre trte affection^, 

C P. 

I am sorry to see l^ these two strange incoherent 
letters, that the poor Princess is as unsettled in mind 
and purpose as ever. Her complaint of her attendants 
being " des vraies tjrants," tells me what she means by 

that expression. I dined with M[ ], and as we were 

sitting after dirmer, listening to a journal, which she 
was reading aloud, to my astonishment the Prince and 
Princess Grassakovitch came in. The latter had been 
so very ill that they had put her ashore at Ville Franche, 
beyond which point they never got ; and he said that he 
was determined they should proceed by land. I was glad 
to know these people were safe, and to see them again. 
We alwajrs b^in to know and like people when we are 

just about to part, it may be for ever. M[ ] and I 

were sorry when Madame De Corvesi and Monsieur and 
Madame De Neubui^h were annomiced. She is a pretty 
little dvil person, with a sweet gentle tone of voice, and 

* These fbolUb, anreasonable complaints of persons whose presence 
did ber honour, and whose BttacbmeDt to her was uncere, were the 
ofisjniags of « diseased mind, and foretold ber downfalL [Original 



more of the jargon Au monde than have the people here. 
They sat on for a couple of hours, and told ghost stories 
and murder stories, and had I not been taken up with 
attempting to draw, I should have liked them very well, 
I was too unwell to do anj^thing that required vigour of 
mind. Read a little in bed before I went to sleep, and 
so ended the day. 

Thursday, F«J. zyrd. — I went to see Lady Glenbervie. 
I think her better for the present, but in a very pre- 
carious state of health. Lord Glenbervie is going on 

Saturday to Genoa and Rome. Lady ^ ] wishes to 

go to Genoa with Lord Bradford, but it is thought her 
lord does not like that arrangement. 

Friday, 24/A. — Paid a visit to Lady Wf ] ; was 

shocked at the nonsense she talked to me about my 

friend's verses, which Miss M[ ] had read to her. I 

felt really provoked. LadyW[ ] was not satisfied with 

the unaffected and genuine spirit of piety which reigns in 
them, and is their (^ef merit, but wanted them to be con- 
verted into a dissertation on theology, an exposition of 
the Christian religion, and, in short, to become a sermon. 

I was confounded, but told her that really the subject 
was not sufficiently serious to build such a structure 
upon ; and that religion was not the theme that had 
given birth to my friend's verses, although the theme 
itself had elicited some regions sentiments. I felt dis- 
gusted, and walked directly to Lady S[ \ but did 

not find her at home, so I proceeded to Lord and Lady 

B[ \ Their conversation made me feel more stupid 

and foolish when I left them, than when I went into 
their house. The society of some persons produces a 

lethargic influence. Dined at Lady S[ Js, plajred at 

cards, and was weary of myself and of all the world. 
Mem. A bad sign of the state of my own mind. 



Swtday, zyth. — Allowed spleen to conquer me, and 
made myself and my best friend unhappy thereby ; was 
veiy sorry for it, and sufiered justly. Went to diurch : 
a good useful sennon on the value of time, which, 

(in spite of Mr. 0'B[ Js calling it the vaUoo, with 

sundry other ridiculous mispronundatious,) produced 
some wholesome effects on me. I endeavoured to write 
and read at home, but the machine was out of order, 
and would not play. Received a visit from Monsieur 
D'C^ ], the most agreeable man I have been ac- 
quainted with here, of this country : he brings me all 
sorts of books, and has much pleasant conversation. I 
passed a bad night, repenting my spleen ; did not 
sleep, and rose sadly worn out — " Better not do the 
deed, than weep it done." 

Monday, T&th Feb. — I wait to get some plants for Lady 
C. C[ampbel]l, at a Cbanoine Grosson's, who has a ro- 
mantic house about two miles up in the mountains. A 
disagreeable stony path leads to ttie foot of a steep, which 
is covered with pines and cjrpresses ; a turn to the right, 
through an archway, conducts along a sort of wide passage 
fonned on one side by a rock, on the other by a screen of 
cypresses, to a little chapel ; through apertures cut in 
this screen, a delicious prospect presents itself : the Bay 
of Nice, the blue sea boundiug the horizon on one hand, 
the Alps towering in gradations of cultivated mountain, 
till they end in snowy peaks on the other. The terraces 
of olives, vines, figs, and other fruit trees, intermingled 
with the cypress, the caroubier, and the almond now in 
flower, rising in gradual amphitheatre around, present 
a magic scene. The blemishes which dis^ure this 
beautiful landscape on a near view, are unobserved in 
looking at it from a height. 

The inclosures of high stone walls, the miserable state 
of decay of the bouses, the fihby odour of manure, are 



thus avoided. The Gumoine led us from this passage 
round to another terrace, and through a Uttle form^ 
garden into his house. The garden was cut into 
parterres, divided by patches of orange trees ; and a 
small marble fotmtahi played in the midst ; but inside 
the house there was an ofiensive smell, as is the case 
in every habitation at Nice. Upstairs, the room was 
clean ; one or two small etchings hung upon the wall, 
of tolerable taste, but a number of family portraits, 
sufficiently hideous to scare the eye, disfigured the 

From the window, the same enchanting scenery 
presented itself ; the whole place bore a character of 
interest ; and romance might have peopled the scene 
with delightful persons, bat reahty only presented the 
Chanoine to view. He showed me a small piece of sculp- 
ture in wood, representing flowers, beautifully carved ; 
and then, pleased with my admiration of the site of his 
house and garden, he took from a closet a case contain- 
ing his best apparatus of glasses, and a bottle of very 
dehcious white wine. There was a mixture of courtesy 
and coldness in bis manner, which was peculiar. From 
the sitting-room he opened a door which conducted to a 
large space, or open corridor, covered only in simuner by 
a trellice of vines, and surrounded by a stone seat, on 
small buttresses of the same material. Projected from 
the walls on stone brackets, were some busts of not 
inelegant sculpture. One of them, a female head of a 
Qeopatra, was very well executed ; and a lesser one, 
representing a male head, which the Chanoine said 
had been found in the neighbourhood, I thought was 
remarkably good. 

Throu^ his bed-room, a bw and concealed door, 
covered by a curtain, opened to a small chapel. I was 
struck with a feeling of interest difficult to explain ; 
here. then, in this narrow secluded abode, was united 



all that was dear to the heart or soul of man. Piety 
might pour its orisons to the ear of Heaven ; reflection's 
still voice might conunune undisturbed 1 regret m^ht 
hallow the remembrance of past pleasures ; hope might 
anticipate those yet in store. In short, with a rapid 
glance, and in one hasty sketch, I ran over the life of 
mortals, bom the cradle to the tomb. 

The Cbanoine next conducted me up a steep path to 
a rock composed of marble and gravel, that overtops 
his house. There is a sort of goige scooped out by the 
hand of nature, which be has planted with innumerable 
cypresses, pines, and other evergreens : — it is a strange 
and lovely sohtude. He was well pleased with my 
admiration of its beauty. He told us he bad been an 
emigrant for ten years ; that in the time of Robespierre's 
tyranny, two of that monster's brothers had lived at 
Nice ; and that during their reign he had returned to 
see bis paternal home in secret, and had escaped with 
difBculty, in the middle of the night, by flight to an 
opposite bill, which be pointed out to us, and which was 
at that time entirely covered with trees. Amoi^ these, 
in a cavern, he had lain concealed for some time. He 
was supported by the charity of a poor woman, who 
brought him food for many days ; at length he escaped 
again into Tuscany, and ultimately bad been brought, 
by Providence, to enjoy his own possessions in peace. I 
left this Cbanoine and his romantic abode, with a firm 
determination to return there. In the evening I went 

to Lady El fs, and played loo with her and Lord 

B[ 1 and the two ctmsuls. 

Tuesday, 2gth Feb.— Paid a visit to Madame D[avido]fE.* 
She is very agreeable. I do not quite understand her 
character, but feel sure she is good. Went also to see 
Lady S[ ]. She has very odd manners, and sometimes 

* A Rnraiftn. h& OrloS, wife of G«nenl Davldofi. 



appears to ine quite unsettled in mind. She .tormented 
my dog. Certainly, educating other people's children 
and dogs is a thankless office, at best. 

Thursday, 2nd March. — Took notes from Miss Plumtre. 
Finished the first volume. Received visits from Mr. 

Df ], P. Bradford, Captam H[ ]. Mr. D[ ] 

sat them aU out. He talked about the propriety of 
letting dying people know, or not, their actual state of 
danger. He convinced me that it was right to do so ; 
but I fear in some cases, where no previous preparation 
of mind had led the person to serious thoughts, or imbued 
them with proper feelings, I should not have courage 
to awaken their conscience to the stings of remorse. 

" Yet how much more cruel," replied Mr. I^ ], after 

I made that answer, " to allow a dear one to die with his 
OS her sins unrepented of, and go to an eternal sufiering, 
where the worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched." 

His opinion was the right one, and should I ever be 
in a situation to fulfil such a duty, painful though it 
would be, I should endeavour to fulfil it. I walked out, 
and felt an oppression of melancholy for poor lady 
G[lenbervie] ; for though I am but slightly acquainted 
with her, I am told she is very amiable, and unfeignedly 
attached to her poor husband, from whom she is about 
to part. That her present hour of trial excites the sin- 
cerest sjrmpathy, I am sure ; she has the prayers of all 
the good people here. 

Every idea was for a time chased away to-night by 

the entrance at Miss M[ Js of Madame D[avidofn 

and Lady S[ ], with the wonderful news that Bona- 
parte is at Grasse, accompanied by, some say five, some 
six, some eight hundred men. That he is there, is a 
fact ; the Prince of McHiaco passed this day, on hjs way 
to his own little principahty, and saw him. This event is 
as astonishing as if it had not been probable. Who could 



think he would remain at Elba quietly and be a good 
boy, because he had been whipped, and put in a coiner ? 
I never believed it, and yet now I am all surprise. 

A number of small vessels were seen ofi Nice this 
morning, and several jokes were made about them. 
Nobody guessed how serious was the cause which spread 
their sails. They broi^ht Bonaparte and his troops ; 
and where is he going to ? That no one can tell. France 
must be his object ; and surely he never would set foot 
on its land, unless be had pretty well ascertained that 
many persons would give him a kind reception. Whether 
he wilt remain at Grasse till other forces join him, or 
whether he will march immediately to the interior of 
the country— what he will do, in short — ^is the greatest 
point of interest to all the worid, and to us who are now 
so near him, especially. 

This indeed is an event to stir the stagnating blood. 
How many at this moment may be in all the horrors of 
a sanguinary night, if he has oiganized his plans and 
traced his path in blood ; if the fearful Revolution is to 
be acted over again I But God forbid I Policy more 
than cruelty must be at his sword's point. But be 
cannot be on foot for nothing, and without a fearfol 
struggle he caimot regain any point of his ambition. 
In each event, those who look most for succour to the 
Power of Powers, will be those who have least to fear. 
I think of my friends in England, who wilt personally be 
anxious for us, not knowing how quiet poor Uttle in- 
significant Nice is. They may imagine some scenes of 
bustle here, from which at present we are quite free. 

Friday, yd March.— To-dAy, I heard that Bonaparte 
has issued proclamation, saying his eagles are on the 
wing, and will soon light on the spires of Notre Dame. 
He is said to have set ofiE at two o'clock yesterday, and 
marched twelve leagues, to a place called CasteUane. 



Nice, I should think, is a nook of great safety. I am glad 
to be here, and my insignificance is my best security against 
all personal danger ; but I should not like to see others 
exposed to fear ; I am grown so frail, body and mind. 
Horses and carriages have been going out of the town 
all night, I suppose to join Bonaparte. The commandant 
has forbidden any person to cross the Var. But what 
signifies his hali dozen of grasshoppers ? are not there 
passes over the mountains fifty ways, by which Bonaparte 
will be joined by all those who are so inclined ? Con- 
jectures as to his means and measures are endless ; but 
that they are great, I cannot doubt, for his all is at stake. 
Perhaps the Congress has decided points to which 
Austria will not agree, and Austria may now be ready to 
pour her troops on France. Perhaps too Bonaparte 
may be desperate, and may choose to set his last hazard 
oo this cast. His character, however, is not that of 
headloi^ valour ; pohcy and prudence have always 
supported his ambition. 

Saturday Night, 4/A March. — I went yesterday to town, 
to gather all the reports. Called at Madame de Corvesi's, 
thinking she might have heard from Paris, but she was 
gone on a quite, and my quite was in vain. Called next 

at La C[ fs. I found him foaming with rage, because 

he had not been Eillowed to sail to Genoa the preceding 
night. This vexed him particularly, because he had 
hoped to be the first person to bear the news to Mr. Hill 
at Genoa, and he ascribed his not being permitted to do 

so to private spite in the Comte D[ ], for fear he 

should precede the Estafette of the former. All this 
littleness in the midst of great concerns, is the law of 
earthly things. 

I heard that Bonaparte landed on Wednesday, at or 
near Cannes. The next day he sent twenty-five or thirty 
of his soldiers to Antibes. These were questioned who 



they were and whence they came. " We serve our 
General." " And where is your General ? " "On the 
high road." This farce did not last long, of course. 
They were soon known. They were, perhaps, expected, 
but the form of taking them prisoners was gone through, 
though they were aUowed to walk about, even without 
being disarmed. They seemed rather there as friends 
than foes. It is impossible to think mere inertness 
should have thus favoured Bonaparte. There must have 
been some decided sentiment at Antibes in his favour. 
In the meantime he landed all his troops, to the amount 
of a thousand men, twenty cases of ammmiition, &c. 
He did not sleep in Grasse, but bivouacked near it, and 
marched on the next day to Castellane, where he distri- 
buted proclamations to the diSerent ranks of people, 
prefects, soldiers, &c., saying that he was not come to 
hurt or oppress the people, bnt to restore the glory of the 
French nation, and to make his faithful subjects happy ; 
adding that his eagles are flying from stee^de to steeple, 
and will soon perch on those of Notre Dame. These 
proclamations are bombast, and presumptuous in the 
highest degree. 

I had heard that he had made this presumptaous 
declaration before ; Monsieur De Condole, the French 
Consul, now here, confirmed the truth of the report, 
M. Condde is just returned from Antibes, where, he 
added, the Prince of Monaco had been stopped ; that 
Bonaparte asked him if he knew him, to which he replied, 
*' Certainly, Sir, as I have served under your Majesty." 
Bonaparte inqtured where the Prince was going ; " k mes 
Terres," was the reply. "Et moi aus^, je vais atuc 
miennes," said Bonaparte, with a forced smile of assumed 
gaiety, and added, with a sneer, " I have b^nn a very 
good road for you. Prince, but I suppose the king of 
Sardinia will finish it." Then taking away a conide of 
the Prince's horses, withoat a^ing it as a favour, he 



dismissed him, and told him he might continue his 

The Prince of Monaco was glad " if m etre qmtte pour 
la pmr" said Monsieur De Condole ; he also told me 
Bonaparte pays immense prices for everything. Some 
of his soldiers damaged a vine3rard : the people to whom 
it belonged asked an exorbitant compensation, which was 
immediately granted. The same for a horse which he 
wished to purchase at Castellane. In short, he seems to 
lack neither men, means, nor money. In the evening I 
saw Lady G[ — -] ; she talked of this great event, and 
conjectured till conjecture could go no farther. She 
agreed with me in fearing that this last efiort is one that 
will cost the world much blood. 

Saturday night. — Went about seeking news, but could 
find none. Heard only what I knew beforOi repeated 
with the variations which everybody makes in telling a 

story. In the evening I walked with Madame D[ ] 

to Lady S[~Ts. More suppositions, till Madame de 
St. Agathe came in, and spoke very good sense upm the 
subject, and informed us that she had just beard from 
the Commandant that sixty men from the garrifon at 
Antibes have deserted, and one of the t^&oers with them, 
who was fearful of being one of the prisoners. It is also 
said, Massena and his troops are in motion, but wtaetbtf 
on the offensive or defensive cause, seems imknown. 

Sunday, 5th MarcA.— Went to church. The Arch- 
deacon preached a very good sermon, on the nm-exittenoe 
of faith without works, and the inefficacy of works without 
faith. Went afterwards to visit Madame Riviere. I had 
a curiosity to look at her pretty niece, a Miss Fells ; a 
woman as white as an Albinoise, but with sense and 
sweetness in her countenance, and the bluest eyes I 
ever saw. I thought her plea»ng, particularly from an 



expresaon of open sweetness on her forehead. The con- 
versation turned npon Bonaparte, of coarse. Nothing 
new had transpired, not even lies. When I was at Miss 

Bfl Xs. Madame D[ ] and Lady S[ ] came in. 

They did not know whither to go, at least Lady S[ ]. 

She has the disease of ennui, but let no one say it ought 
not to be pitied. He who knows all things wiU surely 
have mercy upon the sins it engenders, especially if there 
is any attempt at conquering it. 

Monsieur D[ ] came to me in the evening, bringing 

me more books. He is a very intell^ent man, and, above 
all, seems to have a placidity and a spirit of tranquillity 
and content which diffuse serenity around. Certainly 
every human being possesses influence in the circle in 
which he moves ; he should, therefore, seriously consider 
whether it is emplojred in a baneful or a salutary manner. 
In that very consideration there is matter of useful and 
of interesting employment. 

Monday, 6th March. — Saw a large vessel opposite to 
my windows. Went out immediately to inquire what 
she could be. Heard it was the Abooldr, commanded 
by Captain Thompson, sent from Genoa in pursuit of the 
small frigate in which Bonaparte had escaped ; and 
could not help thinking they were a day after the fair. 
They knew at Genoa as soon as we did, of the Iicm*s 
being out of his den. Lord Glenbervie wrote to his Lady, 
saying he should not proceed from Genoa till he knew 
that aJl was quiet at Rome and in Italy. 

He seemed to be quite at ease about us, knowing this 
spot is out of the line of Bonaparte's business, and that 
we are al) safe here. There are reports from Genoa that 
Murat has sent, or is sending, troops to join Bonaparte 
on the confines of Switzerland ; that the latter has turned 
aside from Grenoble, and, taking the route by Barcelonette 
intends to proceed round towards that country, to unite 



bis forces with Murat's. As he knew nothing of the 
decision of|the congress respecting the new-made Sove- 
reign, one cannot draw any conclusion as to the probability 
or improbability of this measure. I am inclined to give 
it credit, and am extremely sorry for it on every possible 

Poor Sir Stephen Glynne died yesterday, about four 
o'clock. His death, by every account, was tody christian. 
He resigned youth, fortune, love, all that makes this life 
a life of felicity, without a murmur. He received the 
sacrament, and breathed his last in that firm and pious 
trust which religion alone bestows. His widow is now the 
one to be pitied. 

I was again sadly disappointed yesterday at receiving 
no letters. Came home low ; read, but my thoughts, in 
spite of myself, wandered in sandy deserts, where no 

well-springs of joy are to be found. Visited I-ady S[ 1], 

and found her ill. As soon as Ixird S[ ^] came in, she 

began quarrelling with him ; and cried and lamented 
herself till' I felt quite distressed. There are some people 
who cannot be at peace, or who are never content unless 
under the excitement of some excessive joy or misery ; and 

Lady S[ ] is one of these. She is not satisfied with her 

brilliant portion in life, her kind husband, and her children. 
What can please her, since these do not ? She is doing all 
she can to make the latter odious characters and leading 
them to bate her. I think in this she will certainly succeed. 

Tuesday, ph March. — Lord S[ ] paid me a viat. 

He is so desceuvr^, and has got such a desoeuvr6 partner, 
poor man, that he is really to be pitied ; but I can do 
neither of them good, and I wish they would not both 
make me their confidant about nothing at all ; for that 
is the fact. Oh I if some real distress or heart grief were 
to come to them, how could they bear it, when they find 
their present pleasant lot hard to bear ? 



No news of Bonaparte t Conjecture aboat him and 
his doings is fatiguing, yet one cannot lay it aside. It is 
a week to-day since he arrived at Cannes. 

Wednesday, 8th March. — Received a letter from Mrs. 
D[ame]r, saying all London was up in arms, at an official 
notice having been made to Lord Liverpool that the 
Princess of Wales was to return to England In May. The 
letter announcing this intention, and one also to Princess 
Charlotte, formed, it seems, the contents of those letters 

Her Royal Highness desired me to forward to H[ ] 

on the loth of last month. How strange that she should 
not have written a word of this to me ; on the contrary, 
should have told me that she should meet me in October, 
at Genoa or Marseilles. 

Certainly there are two wonderful people in the world, 
the Princess of Wales and Bonaparte 1 Of the latter, 
there are a thousand and one vague reports, many of them 
very puerile and vain ; such as bis being cased in armour, 
which was discovered by men who lifted him upon his 
horse ; his drinktog very hard, &c. &c. Other reports, 
of more consequence, (if they are true,) state that some 
English vessels have fallen in with others which were 
conve3ring troops and arms from Murat to join bim ; 
that Massena has set a price on his head, and declared 
him and his followers outlaws ; that there has been a 
con^nracy at Paris ; that fifty people have been shot. 
It is very difficult to know the truth anywhere at any 
time ; but here, and at this present moment, impossible. 

Played at loo at Lady S[ fs in the evening, whilst 

Bonaparte was playing for kingdoms — let us hope only 
plajnuig. Ainsi va le monde t du sublime au ridicule, U 
n*y a qu'un pas. 

Thursday, gtk March. — Sang ; should like to sing 
oftener. Walked with Lord Bt ] to my favourite 



haunt. He has all the suavity which supplies the place 
of information ; all the polish of manners which implies 
refinement of mind. I Imow not if the force of vigorous 
intellect, or high-wrought genius, be there. I should 
think not ; but for a time, on s*en passe. 

Dined with Mr. B[ ]. There were, of women, Lady 

E[ ] A[ ], a perfect Argus, with eyes behind, I 

believe ; Miss B[ ], very like a doll in a barber's 

shop ; both like things in a bad dream ; Mrs. D[ ] 

and her daughter, starch-looking persons, harsh and full 

of angles, mentally as well as bodily. An old Mr. D[ ], 

very like a gentleman ; his son, a beautiful young man, 

with fine soft features, but quite a lad ; Col. C[ ], that 

epitome of self-consequence and vulgarity ; Bfc. K[ ] 

a httle haberdasher, or clerk in a cotrntir^ house ; and 
Sir Somebody Something, with a crooked face, formed 

the party. B[ ] has a gentleness of manner that I 

rather like. 

I sat next Col. q ] and Mr. D[ ]. I tried to 

make acquaintance with the latter, and found him very 
conversible and intelligent. He gave me an accoimt of 
bis going down the Rhone, with his family, and their 
being nearly lost. How awful it must have been ; in 
an instant they were up to their throats in water, even 
sitting upon the barouche box of their carriages ; and 
had it not been for a small boat, whose crew saw and 
came to their reUef , they miist have all perished. 

After dinner, came Captain Aidy, of the Partridge 
frigate, who arrived to-day, and brought in bis vessel Col. 
Campbell, aiias Sir Neil Campbell : we were all anxious 
to hear what be could have to say for himself. 

Sir Neil did not come, but pretended to have business 
with the Commandant and the French Consul. Captain 
Aidy stated that since October he bad been stationed ofE 
Elba, to be at the disposal of Sir Neil Campbell ; that 
the latter bad frequently made excursions, and lastly 



had gone to Leghorn. That on the night of the 26th, he, 
Captain Aldy, had seen Bonaparte's frigate quite tranquil 
in the harbour, without any appearance of bustle or 
preparation. He had accordingly sailed to bring back 
Sir N. Campbell ; and when they returned, they found 
Bonaparte, his troops, and arms, had left Elba two days. 
In consternation, they landed, and found Madame M^e, 
the mother of Pauline, and Madame Bertrand, wife to the 

General. Captain A[ ] and Sir N[eil] C[ampbell] told 

them that Bcmaparte would certainly be taken and killed 
immediately ; but they seemed quite secure of his success. 

At three o'clock on Sunday, Bonaparte shut the gates 
of Elba. At nine o'clock, he was towed out of the harbour 
of Ferrajo, and immediately a favouring bree2e sprung 
up, and wafted him at once to the shores of Provence, 
without opposition. 

At best this is a blundering business ; and I should 
think either Sir Neil, or the ministry, or both, must answer 
for it with their heads, or at least with their reputations. 
All that is said by way of excuse for Sir Neil Campbell, 
does not appear to me to exonerate him from the greatest 
blame ; indeed, I cannot fathom the whole affair, and do not 
wonder foreigners throw the blame on the whole nation. 

Friday, iftfA March. — ^Lady Glenbervie is far from 
well. I wish Lord G[ — — ] were well, to nurse her. 
I received a visit from Sir Neil Campbell. Lady 

C[ ] Q ], whom I had just been visiting, told 

me he was a handsome man, and so he is. His 
eloquent defence of his conduct certainly made me 
view it with a more favourable eye than I had done 
before, consid^ing it with the eyes of my understanding 
only. His conversation, as nearly as I can remember it, 
was as follows : — " I was never placed about Bonaparte 
as bis gaoler. I was a commissioner, on the contrary, 
appointed by the English government to provide him 



with ever3rthiiig he could want in his island. For that 
purpose I had the Partridge, stationed at Porto Ferrajo, 
to obey my orders ; but I had no men, no means what- 
ever to prevent Bonaparte's doing whatever he chose ; 
and as the latter had a small frigate, a bomb vessel, and 
several small boats with a thousand soldiers at his com- 
mand, I certainly. could not be supposed to have any 
power to prevent his leaving the island whenever he 
might be so inclined. 

" As far back as October last, I wrote to Lord Castle- 
reagh, stating my belief that if the allies did not pay 
Braiaparte the salary they agreed to give him, he would 
make some desperate attempt. Since that, I have been 
aware that he had constant communications with Minat. 
I also infonned our government of this circumstance, I 
have been frequently absent from Elba, not conceiving 
myself imder any engagement not to be so. The last time 
I left the island, I saw that everything was perfectly 
quiet, and in its usual state. When Captain Aidy came 
away, on Saturday, the 25th, all was apparently as usual. 
The soldiers were amusing themselves making a garden 
before the guard-house, and in Bonaparte's brig there 
was no appearance of any preparation whatever for 

sailing. Captain A[ ] came to me at Leghorn, to take 

me back there. 

" However, some rumours reached me at Leghorn, 
which alarmed me, and I waited on the French consul 
and the English. The latter did not give these reports 
the least credit, but the former did. I hastened away, 
bnt, tmfortunately, my intelligence led me to believe 
that Bonaparte might have fled to Italy ; and to Porto 
Caprai, therefore, we took our course. When we got 
there, we heard that such and such vessels full of men 
had been seen to the westward of the shores of Provence. 
These answered to the description of Bonaparte's little 
fleet. In all anxiety we tamed, therefore ; but I thought 


it best to take Elba in our way, to ascertain the fact of 
bis flight. We were becalmed ; and wbea we reached 
Porto Ferrajo, Bonaparte had been gone two days. I 
left the Partridge at the outside of the port, and told 
Captain Aidy that if I did not return in two hours, he 
might conclude I was detained prisoner, and make the 
best of his way to give the intelligence. As I approached 
the shore, I saw none of the great caps, none of the usual 
soldiery, but what he calls 'gardes nationales,' in 
their room. 

" I was received by some of the under persons in com- 
mand, and requested to be led immediately to General 
Bertrand. ' General Bertrand is not here.' * To General 
Oudinot ' ; ' he is not here either.' * To the Emperor.' 
They looked imcertain what to say. * Very well, I see 
how it is ; you need not be so discreet. I knew this 
plan long ago, and you may depend upon it they are 
all taken prisoners by this time.' 

" I thought it best to pretend this knowledge, ip order 
to appear of some consequence." 

Just as I write these words, [ ] tells me, Barzotti, 

music master, has ridden by, and says, our English officer 
told him, Bonaparte is taken, with four hundred men. 
I do not believe it, and go back to my narration. 

" Who is in command here ? " Sir Neil told me, was 

his next question. " I was answered, ' Monsieiu- [ ].' 

' Lead me to him.' * What are your intentions ? * Sir 
Neil said, as soon as they met, ' Do you mean to submit 
to your lawful sovereign or not ? * ' What sovereign ? * 
' The allies, who placed Bonaparte here.' * I know of no 

sovereign but Napoleon,' replied Monsieur [ ], ' and 

I have means to defend the island, and sheill use them.* 

" I had nothing to do but to bow, and say it was well ; 
that I could remain no longer at Elba ; ttut my frigate 
waited t<x me, and that I must be gone immediately. I 
thought, however, that I would endeavour to leani all 



the intelligence I could, and called at Madame M^e's 
and the Princess Pauline's.* They both declined giving 
any information, if they had any to give. They said 
they were in the greatest anxiety, and, on the contrary, 
so far from giving me any news, they requested me to 
give them some, of their brother. 

" I spoke as if I was well acquainted with his plans, 
whereas I was in perfect ignorance of them ; but I could 
observe that whenever I mentioned Italy, they seemed 
much relieved. Princess Pauline took my hand, and, 
pressing it to her heart, desired me to feel bow it beat 
with anxiety ; but I could not perceive any symptoms 
of alarm, and, being in haste, I shortened my visit as 
much as possible. 

" Delighted to find I was not detained prisoner, I sailed 
to Antibes ; but still in a pitiable state of imeasiness of 
mind, for I was aware how much the imprudence of the 
nations would be laid to my charge, and h^w much 
circumstances might make me seem guilty in the minds 
of thousands." 

Sir N. Campbell coloured violently as he said this, and 
I was sorry for him. Then he added, that he was going 
into France, but should return this way, and so we 

All these particulars, however, do not lessen my sur- 
prise at the conduct of our ministers, as well as at that 
of the allies ; and I regret that one of my countrymen 

• PrinccM Borgheae was donbtlesa very beaatifnl, b«t her maonets 
were tboae of a petite maitresae giving herself the airs of a crowned 
head. Majiy were the leally great ladles who waited in hei drawing- 
loamB, and did not blush to be subservient to her caprices. [Part of 
original note.] 

t If it be trae that Sir Neil Campbell was the heart prisoner of a 
fair lady at Florence, that may account for bis having watched his 
prisoner at Elba so ill. Certain it is, Sir Neil Campbell seemed very 
anxious tctprove that he was not to blame in bavii^ permitted the 
escape of a man on whose liberty the fate of Europe depended. 
[Original note.] He died in 1S37. 





should have accepted the [dace of a sort o{ petty s{^ 
over even Bonaparte. Better, far better, to have been 
his appointed gaoler, and known by the prisoner himself 
to be such, than a spy in the disguise of a friend to provide 
for his wants. 

I think Sir Neil feels thus himself, and regrets having 
accepted the office. Many circumstances respecting this 
affair will, I doubt not, be made known by time, which 
brings foul and fair to light ; but at present there is a 
mystery enveloping the whole of this wonderful business. 

Saturday, iith March. — No confirmation of the good 
news, but all the English feel confident that !fr. King 
and Sir Neil Campbell will bring us the intelligence that 
Bonaparte is certainly taken. They say it is impossible 
for him to escape ; he is surrounded by troops. Bonnet 
is a small village, quite encircled by motmtains, and he 
never can make his way over these, with an army, while 

the enemy are inclose pursuit. Monsieur [ ] reached 

Lyons on the 8th, and Hassena sent off five thousand 
men from Marseilles. What can Bonaparte's handful 
of men do against all these ? Oh ! it was a desperate 
impulse, almost madness, I should think, which induced 
him to make this last attempt for his liberty. 

Sunday^ 12th. — Went out with Lady S[ ] and Miss 

M[ ]e. We went visiting ; amongst other {daces to 

Madame Villegarde*s catnpagne — such a place ! a miserable 
house on the high-road to Turin, more like a dirty ale- 1 . 
house than a gentleman's chateau, with some ill-growing ' ' 
trees, cut into shapes, before it. The door was opened 
by a wild-looking man ; the dust blew through the empty 
passage, and made a cloud which we found it difBcult to 
pass through without being blinded. We were shown, 
or rather left to find our way, up a ladder-like staircase, 
to a dirty rooni, the floor of which was strewed with rags 



and filth, where we beheld tA Marquise De Villegarde, 
in dress and in person, like an old witch. She took us 

in great haste, leading Lady S[ ] by the hand, into an 

inner room, in which were two beds, covered with caps, 
and gowns, and breeches of the Marquis De Villegarde, 
and various other things, strewed together in disorder, 
" Ah ! " la Marquise exclaimed, '* how terrible to receive 
you here ! " — Of course we made the civil ; but Lady 
^_— ] was so disgusted with the disagreeable smell 
which prevailed in the Marquise's apartment, that she 
would not stay a moment. I was much pressed to 
return ; and the old lady said she would tell me my 
fortune, and many curious things. 

I had heard before that she was learned in the Hack 
art. I declined having my own fate foretold, but promised 
to pay her another visit. We met Madame Davidofi, and 
we all walked to the promontory of I^ucate, — ^is I have 
christened that beautifiil walk among the olive-grounds, 
extending beyond the port towards Monaco. The locale 
is such as one would have supposed the Lesbian niaid 
might have chosen, when she plunged into the ocean. 

We saw a quantity of ammunition that the Sicilian 
raiment in the English pay brought with them, in carts 
each drawn by fotu' fine grey horses, which they were 
driving to the Place Vittoria. This excited our curiosity, 
and I questioned an English soldier, but he either knew 
nothing, or would communicate none of his inf onnatifO). 

:_ Tuesday, 14/A. — Yesterday evening, Mr, King and Sir 

Jf. Campbell arrived. Sir N[ ] would positively say 

nothing, only sent hia apoJt^y to Mr, B[ 1 with whom 

he was to have dined, informing him he was to embark 
immediately. Mr. King declared the news was as bad 
as possible, but would not say what it was. This" put 
all the inhabitants of the Fauxbourg in a fuss ; but 
some of theqa concluded that it was only the ign<ffance 



o{ Sir Neil Campbell and BIr. King, and not any real 
knowledge of facts, which made them cast an air of 
mystery over their journey. I passed two hours with 
Madame De Villegarde ; she showed me a small lit^ary 
of curious old books on the black art. This woman gave 
me the sort of entertainment one feels on reading a 
Gennan novel full of horrors and wonders ; our reason 
despising oiu imagination all the while, for being diverted. 
There was quite sufficient basis for romance and mystery 
in all she said and all she showed me. Among other 
things, ^e told me that she herself bad seen gold made, 
with her own eyes, and had partly been initiated into the 
mysterious process ; " but much," she added, '* must be 
gone through, much must be known, before the slightest 
knowledge of that wonderful thing called the philosopher's 
stone can be understood." 

" There," said she, opening five or six mjrstical books 
inteispeised with strange prints and drawings, and 
hierc^lyphics, " these are the elements of that study, but 
you will not understand them any more than if you looked 
at any unknown language." I read some of the letter- 
press of the cabalistic books, which indeed appeared to 

menonsense. MadameDeV[ ] looked wise and pleased, 

because I listened to her, and she said, if I would study 
any branch of the occult sciences, all her works on those 
subjects were at my disposal. I thanked her, but thought 
what a waste of time such a study would be, and left the 
old lady with a poor idea of her powers of divination, and 
a thorough contempt for the black art. The only curious 
fact I ever heard of the Marquise's having predicted 
future events, was, (as Lady Charlotte Campbell told me,) 
that, several months ago, when every one thought Bona- 
parte safe at Elba for life, Madame De Vill^arde laid out 
the cards, and read by them before Lady Charlotte, that 
Bonaparte would first be victorious in a great undertaking 
be contemplated, then occasion tears and mourning, and 



finally die himself overthrown and taken captive. This 
certainly was a singular prediction, but it might have 
been foretold without any assistance from supernatural 

Wednesday, 15th. — ^To-day I received the following 
letter from the Princess of Wales, dated Rome. 

CniRE [ ^], — J'ai eu le bonheur de recevoir deux lettres 

de vous avant mon depart de Naples ; depuis hier je me 
trouve a Rome pour m'embarqu^ 4 Civita di Veccia, poor 
me rendie a Livome. J'esp^re que la peur vous a pris, et 
que je vous y trouverai. Lady Ct^lotte Lindsay et Monsieur 
F. North, soDt de la partie. Mais comme Lady Elizabeth 
Forbes est resti a Naples pour ce rendre a Lcmdre pour 
quelque mens, je serai absolument sans dame ; aiosi je vais 
proposer a Lady Charlotte Campbell de venir a Livome dans 
ma frigate, avec toute sa famille et Mrs. Darner, pour nous 
rendre a Gene, ou je compte de rester quelque temps et de 
voir quel toumure les aifaires poUttques prendront, car le 
Lac de Como est mon point de vue pour mon establhsemen, 
si Napoleon me le permette — ainsi si Mis. Damer veut accom- 
paguer Lady Charlotte, je serai trop heureuse de I'avoir chez 
moi. Si Lady C[harlotte] ne peut pas se rendre a Livome avec 
toute sa famille, je veut lui ofCrir de prendre sa fille aine^ pour 
etre ma bedchamber woman, et lui payer deux cent potmds, 

par ans.* Si Miss M[ ], I'ami de lady Charlotte, voudrai 

accompagner Miss Campbell, je serai charm^ de I'avoir quelque 
temps chez moi, pour trois mois ; je lui ferais uu present et 
payerai son voyage de retour ou elle voudra se trouv^ ; 
mais il f audrait quelle vien avec la fille de Lady Charlotte, 
et sans femme <^ chambre. Ah 1 comme je serai chaim^ 
de vous revoir. Combien de choses j'ai a vous dire et vous 
communiquer. J'ai le cceur bien gros, mais bouche close 

* Wb&t an idea, ta suppose any mother nould allow her daughter, 
especially so young a person as Lady C. Campbell's daughter was at 
that time, to accept sach a sitoatioii I The poor Princess, who did 
not want for discernment, must have been aware that the request was 
one very nnlikely to be granted by any parent, considering the maia 
fama, or, to say the least of it, trumptry reputation which her Court 
bad obtained since her residence abroad. [Original note.] 



pour ce moment. Cioyez men pour la vie, absente ou presente, 
toujoors votre sincere amie. . • . rt , 

' C P. 

I showed Her Royal Higbness's letter, as she desired, to 
Lady C. Campbell, who, of course, rejected her ofier of 
makiog her (^ughter the Princess's bedchamber woman ; 
but she said she would endeavour herself to meet the 
Princess at L^bom. I replied to Her Royal Highness's 
letter, by saying I r^retted she was compelled to ask here 
and there, for persons to attend her ; and ventured, for 
the first time, to give her a piece of advice, which, I fear, 
would ofiend ; but the impulse was too strong within me 
to endeavour to serve her, that I could not resist breaking 
through my rule, which had made me such a favourite 
with the poor lady. I besought Her Royal Highness to 
return to Ei^land ; I represented to ber the troubled 
state into which it was to be feared the Continent would 
soon be thrown, so that no place might shortly be safe from 
one hour to another ; and besides Uiat, I felt sure it would 
be wisest for her own interests that she should return and 
take possession of her station and situation in England. 

For God's sake, Hadam, lose not the place you hold in 
the Britisb people's hearts, by too long absence from them. 
Live amongst them, spend your money amongst them, and 
they will stand by you to the last. Live abroad, and be 
surrounded by foreign servitors, and, I fear, the English 
people's affection will not stand the test of a long abs^ce, 
or of your showing a partiality to foreigners. Remember 
the prejudice John Bull bears them. Excuse the freedom 
of my speech. Madam, and I implore your Royal Highness 
to believe, that sincere attachment makes me ei^rees this 
o|»nion, though reluctantly. If you are always under the 
pnNie eye of the English nation, no lies can be invented, in- 
jurious to your honour or happiness. Return to Britain, 
choose from some of the worthiest of her nobles, persons 
willing to be, and deserving of being, your attendants ; keep 
up an interest in your cbUd's heart, by living in the same 



country, paitaJdog of the s»ne interests with her, and, I 
ventnre to say, your Royal Highness will not repent o( the 

Once again, I beseech your Royal Highness to forgive the 
liberty I have talien in writing to you ^us freely. 

I ^all be ready, at all times and places, to obey yonr 
conunands, and remain, 

Madam, your Royal Highness's 
Host faithful ^d obedient humble servant, 
&c. &a 

Such was the answer I made to the Princess. She 
never gave me any reply, and did not follow my advice. 
I hardly hoped she would ; bnt I have reason to tiank. 
she was not displeased at the time, but only contemned 
my opinions as insignificant. It is a vain endeavour to 
serve Her Royal Highness. 

Lady Gleabervie told me the melancholy and almost 
incredible news, of Bonaparte's being at Lyons. At 
Grenoble aU the inhabitants declared themselves for 
him, and some raiments had joined him. He got there, 
it appears, without any interruption, and was at Lyons 
on the 9th. This awful news was transmitted by tele- 
graph to Turin, and from Turin to Genoa, from whence 
it reached Lady Glenbervie. She added to this news 
the scarcely less surprising intelligence in another way, 
of the Princess of Wales being expected at Genoa every 

I went to Lady S[ ], who did not know any of these 

tidings ; and when she heard that her lord, not masta-, 
bad been acquainted with the whole business the day 
before, she burst forth into a torrent of invectives, and 
said that when ojnfidence ended between man and wife, 
there was a total end of every tie. She made a fine tirade, 
which stunned me, for she spoke, or rather screamed, so 
loud, that I expected to see her fall into conyulsions. 

Lord S[ ] defended himself by saying that her nervous 

state of mind was so great, he feared to agitate her, ai|d 



intended to break the matter by degrees. After this 

quarrel Lady S[ ] said she must go to bed, and I left 


Early this morning I went about to gather up the news, 
and found all the English, as if with one consent, were 
setting off different ways, in order to get back to England. 
Most of them were flying to Genoa, where, from the 
nnmber of troops, and through our minister, Mr. Hill, 
and Lord Wilham Bentinck, it was supposed we should 
find greater protection than here, with poor old Comte 
D*Osasque. In the meantime, Madame Davidoff and I 
went to the commandeur, to make friends with, and 
consnlt him, what we had best do for ourselves. Madame 

D[ ] waited not to ask if he was at home, but walked 

straight forward into his apartment. The appearance 
of calm despair which he betrayed in his whole coun- 
tenance and manner, alarmed Madame Davidoff con- 
siderably. He told us that Bonaparte had passed Lyons, 
that twenly-^ix regiments had deserted from Monsieur 
and gone over to his cause ; that when Monsieur rode 
along the lines and made the men a speech, exhorting 
them to do their duty, and crying Vive le Roi, a dead 
silence pervaded the whole rebel rout. At lengtii one of 
the of&cers came forward and said, " Prince il est trop 
taid, tout est fini : the honour of France has been sullied, 
we are going to avenge her disgrace. The Emperor is the 
only sovereign we acknowledge." Monsieur fled, with 
about forty or 6ity men, to Paris. 

The commandeur promised to inform Madame Davidoff 
the moment there was any occasion for her to leave this 
place. Monsieur IVOsasque said be was afraid there was 
not a hope left that Paris would resist. I accompanied 

Madame Davidoff to Lady L[ ] B[ ] : she has a 

pleasing manner, but her religious sentiments are too 

bigoted, and her endeavours to convert Mr. [ % a gay 

young man, a friend of her husband's, were too mudi 



of that school which is sujei d caution. Lady L[ ] 

said she looked upon Bonaparte's being permitted to 
return, as a punishment for the allied sovereigns having 
disputed about their own petty points of interest, and also 
as the means of extirpatii^ tie Catholic religion, against 
which she seemed quite furious. This violent zeal for our 
own mode of worship, where the great points of christian 
faith and trust are the same, appears to me intolerant 
and blameable. I did not suffer my opinions, however, 
to impede Lady L[ fs eloquence. 

I dined at Lady S[ fs with the Consul D'Espagne 

and the Consul D'Angleterre, and that most disagreeable 

man, CoL C[ ]. The nonsense that was talked at 

dinner put me out of all patience ; and making jokes (Hi 
the most awful events and dispensations of Providence, 
seems to me the dullest as well as the most senseless and 
mifeeling conduct. 

Thursday, i6th March. — I have determined to remain 
here imtil war is absolutely at the gate, and I shall then 
go to Geneva ; for I dread returning to England, and 
many circumstances combine to make me doubtful 
whether or not I shall ever bring myself to go thither 
again, I saw Lady Glenbervie, who is all smxiety about 

her husband. Went in the evening to I^y S[ ], who 

is all gall to hers. 

Friday, the lyth. — Lord S[ ] called on me to tell 

me that Colonel Bourke had four transports at his dis- 
posal, and as his regiment was ordered to go over the Col 
de Tende, and to occupy that part of the coimtry, these 
transports were to return to Genoa, and should take his 
family, or any of his English friends, for nothing ; but 
that they would be obl^ed to sail twenty-four hours 
after he left Nice. Lord S[ ] begged me only to make 



this ofEer known to Lady Glenbervie. The reason that 
Colonel Bourke wished it to be kept secret, was, that he 
apprehended all the English who are flocking here from 
Marseilles, &c. might apply to him for conveyance to 
Genoa, and bring him into some scrape, as he could not 
be of use to them all. I declined the ofier of this con- 
veyance to Genoa, as it appeared probable, from the recall 
of troops, that no present apprehension was entertained 
for this place. 

There were flying reports all day of Bonaparte's having 
met with some check, and his bemg driven back to Lyons. 
It was also said that Lonis XVIII. was riding about the 
streets of Paris, and saying he never would quit it but with 
his life — that Soult had been discovered in a conspiracy, 
and that he had been shot. But all these were only 
vague reports, which could not even be traced to their 

I went with Lady S[ ] to pay visits. She was all 

bustle and delight at leaving Nice, caring little for the 
cause, hke a. child freed from a dull bondage. Her mind 
is very desultory ; she is not devoid of capacity, or rather, 
of quickness ; but it is a garden fuU of weeds, a most con- 
fused assemblage of rank and overgrown evils. Colonel 
Bourke, whom we met, told me his destination was 
changed, and that he and his troops were going straight 
to Genoa, and that he wished 1 would avail m3r5elf of 
his offer to convey me thither ; but Lady Glenbervie, 
who is here alone and unprotected, having asked me to 
remain, I should feel mj^elf quite a barbarian to leave 
her, till her husband returns to her. 

She read me a letter from him to-day, written Tuesday 
last, in which he says that Monsieur de Revelt, governor 
there, has desired him particularly to remam a day or two 
longer. I-ady Glenbervie reads the sense of these words 
mystically, and supposes that they expect some attack 
to be made there, of which however they are not certain, 



and may not speak, but that they wish Lord Glenbervie, 
before be leaves Genoa, (with the intention of bringing 
her back there,) to be acquainted with the truth. This 
may or may not be, but I rather think Lord Glenbervie 
is only amusing himself, however late in the day. 

Reports came to Madame Davidofi, through a German 
here who has a brother at L^hom, who wrote him word 
that Hurat is at Florence. This talhes with the notion 
of an attack being contemplated at Genoa. Spent the 

evening at Lady Glenbervie's, with Lady W[ ] and 

Lady S[ ]. 

Saturday, i8th March. — Lady S[ ] made sure of 

setting ofi the next day, by packing up her children in 
Colonel Bourke's transport, and sending them to Genoa. 
The Archdeacon and Lady Waldegrave decided to go 
over the Col de Tende : they were to set off on Monday ; 

the B[ ]s also, and Mrs. S[ ]. This was a general 

breaking up of the English colony, and I felt melancholy 
to be the only one who was tied by drcumstances to 
remain, whether I would or not. No letters seem to 
pass through Paris — an additional cause of vexation. I 
received a letter from the Princess, 

Dated islh March, 1815, Civbtta Veccria. 

Ma CEDhtE [ ], — Je me trouve depuis deux jouis i 

Civitat Vecchia, ou j'attende ma frigatte de Naples, La 
Clorinde, qui doit directement me mener i Livome. Lady 
Charlotte Lindsay et Monsieur F. North sont les seules per- 
sonnes qui m'accompagne, mais ils sont oblig^ de me quitter 
alors pour ce rendie en Angleterre. Madame Falconniere, 
la femme de mon banquier, qui est avec ses deux petite filles 
pour ce rendre en Suisse pour vcnr ses fils, elle pouira bien 
ce rendre jusqua Nice en cas que ma lettre que je vous ai 
edit i Rome ne sera point arriv^. 

H^las ! combien de choses J'ai a vous communiquer. Mmi 
plan ainsi est de raster dans la maisoa de Lady Charlotte 
Campbell i Nice poui deux jours, mais le petit GuiUiaume 



et Mademoiselle Diunont nous avons tous nos lits, ainsi une 
cbambre, est tcms ce qui est necessaire Mes gens je les 
enverrais daas one auberge, et Madadie Falconniece peut 
d'abord ce rendie dans une auberge, puis ce rendre en Suisse. 
Je pourrais alors faire quelque anangement avec vous, oil 
de i^Budre une maison pris de Nice pour jouir de votre 
society et de celle de Lady C. Campbell, ou de nous rendre a 
Gene, ou j'avaE deja pris une tnaisou en cas que Napoleon 
ne resistott plus. J'ai quitt^ Naples dans la plus grande 
Vitesse passible. Lady E. Forbes se rende en Angleterre — 
Monsieur Craven chez sa m^re a Paris — Monsieur Hesse pour 
I'Angleterre, et je cr<HS que Sir William Gell reste encore 
quelque temps a Na{de. Je deteste Naples, et ne compte 
jamais d'y retoumer, sur tout les rapports, mais enfin^bonche 
close pour ce moment.* 

J'esp^ que Lady Charlotte Campbell aussi bien que sa 
fille seront conteote de mon arrangement de la prendre comme 
bedchamber women, avec I'appcHntemeot de deux cents par 
annee. J'attend Monsieur St. Leger et sa fille bientdt, aiDsi 
j'aurais assez de monde autour de mci. 

Votre tres sincere amie, 

P. C. 

As usual, the poor Princess wrote the above letter 
evidently in a state of excitement, and was considerably 
annoyed at being forsaken by all her English attendants. 
I fear she will never retain respectable persons about 
her, for she is unreasonable in her demands on their 
services, and leads so desultory a life, and oftentimes 
one so wholly unfitting her dignity as a woman, (much 
more as Princess of Wales,) that those most attached 
to her can least bear to witness her downfall; which 
iius'wandaing mania, withoat a proper aim or object, 
is very likely to effect. 

I spoit the evening at Lady S[ ]*s. Madame de 

* The BnddcD alteration in Her Royal Kigbneu'a mind reapecdiig 
Naples, Menu at best very caiHicioas, and, by all I ever hesrd, waa 
totally wtthont any rational foundation, as every tme showed bw 
attention and respect, till iier strange, nnaceaontaUe condnct canaed 
tlwm to leave her society. ^ [Origliial note.] 



CoTvesi was there, and related aU the horrors of the first 
Revolution, which she witnessed. I felt ashamed of not 

feeling more regret than I did at bidding Lady S[ } 

adieu, for she has been kind and hospitable to me. Yet 
she has made no way in my heart, or even in my Ukiug. 
She does not care wliether she has or no ; and so we 
both parted without any sorrow, though we have lived 
in intimacy for a let^th of time. I received a not£ 
from the Duchess of [Devonshire^ desiring me to take 

lodgiogs for her and Lady B[ ^]h hwe, from Wednesday 


Sunday, igth March. — Mr. Vivian preached a very afiect- 
ing sermon, taking leave of his conurbation. We, that 
is to say, almost all the English, received the sacrament, 
and parted in peace. After church, I received the fare- 
well visit of Mr. V[ ], and, while he was talking to me, 

a stranger entered with a letter from the Princess of Wales. 
I was confused and awkward, as I always am at the 

* B[lixabeth], Dacbesa of [Devonshire] complBtad her repntatioo for 
bong a clever woman, by performiog the part of amboasadress, under ttte 
rose, from the court of England to the I^pal See. One of the occaaioiu 
on which she exercised her bvaj over the Pope was, when the Qneea 
Caroline (which she was then become) returned to Rome the last 
time on her way back to England. The Duchess prevented bis Htdinesi 
from showing Her Majesty the smallest civilil?, and he refused ha 
a guard of honour, or any of the honours dne to her rank. It w»s a 
weak and servile trait of character in Pins VI. to allow himself to 
change his condact towards the Queen, whom he had formeriy received 
with BO much courteay ; but Cardinal Gonsalvi it was, who probably 
regulated him in this, ae in moat other points, and he was, aa is wdl 
known, subject to the Duchess of [Devoosbire], who was desperately in 
love with the Cardinal. Whenever sba saw him approach, ber wbole 
frajne was in trepidation, and no girl of fifteen ever betrayed a n 

returned the tender passion ; but bis idea of the Duchess's consequence 
at the English court induced him to " se laister aimer." [l4rt of 
original note.] The original note recounts the story that Elizabeth, 
Dnchess of Devonshire, was the real mother of the 6th Duke of Devon- 
shire, who passed as being the son of her friend the first Dncheaa, Sb« 
m&rried the 5th Duke in 1809, three years after her Mend's death. 



Aieiition of certain^royal names. The person announced 

himself as Mr. M[ ], and the letter was merely a note, 

saying she meant to be at Nice in May, and to retam to 
London for next winter. This last intelligence gave me 
pleasure, bat I fear she will not keep to her present 
determination. Then, at the bottom of the paper was 
written in broken French — ^The bearer of this is a spy, 
and does not speak a word of truth, and is altogether 
odious, lias is the second time Her Ro3ral Highness has 
sent persons to me with similar letters of introduction. 
I had very near laughed in the man's face, when I read 
the comical letter of recommendation he brought of 

Ur. M[ ] proved to be such a talktr. I never heard 

his equal. I thought myself obliged to ask him to come 
to me the ensuing evening. He did not go away till my 
dinner was on the table ; and if it had not been for Lord 
B[radford], who came to take leave of me, I do not think 
he would ever have left me. 

Lord Glenbervie is returned at last. He looks as gay 
as a lark. Ah ! it is always the poor women who sufier, 
who lament in the absence, and who fear even in the 
presence, of those they love. Lord Gpoibervie] knew no 
pnblic news, and was detennined to go to Genoa ; because, 
he said, there was better fare to be had there. Lady 
Glenbervie, too sick and too English to enjoy anything 
but home, thought only with pleasure of getting thither, 
and of Genoa being a step to that desired haven of rest. 
I was not abte to be amuseid by Lord Glenbervie. 

Monday', aotk. — Every body left Nice to-day ; and 
althoi^h nobody was very dear to me, I felt a good will 
to all, and a sad melancholy at being left alone, as it were, 
in a state of suspense. There is a hope of better pnblic 
news, that is to say, of a successfol resistance being made 
by the allied poweis. Mr. M[ ] passed the whole 



evening with me, and rattled till I felt not to have an 
idea left. 

Tuesday, 2irf. — Walked to Villa Franche, by a romantic 
path, of motmtainous and picturesque beauty. The 
com and beans that are springing up under the olives, 
the fruit-trees in luxuriant blossom, the flowers blowing 
among the com, narcissus and anemonies in wild profusion, 
presented an enchanting scene. I met Hadame Davidofi, 
and we rowed across the Bay of Ville Franche. A Hiss 

£[ ], the governess of Madame DavidofTs children, a 

poor quiet httle personage, who seems estimable, but very 
miserable, accompanied us ; yet not miserable throu^ 
Madame Davidoff, but because a governess's is always a 
miserable situation, and she detests the Governor. 

If she be a superior person (and who wotild like to 
place an inferior-minded one about their. children ?) a 
governess is apt to gain such an influence over her puf^, 
that the mother becomes jealous. Then the governess 
is treated like a servant, and as if she were not fit to Uve 
with ladies and gentlemen, though she is chosen to bring 
up the dearest objects of affection. It is a hateful mitier to 
those who have to fulfil it ; and if the mother is a good, 
feeling person, it is painful to her to have to treat the 
governess with coldness, and to keep her at the distance 
marked out between the holder of that office, and the 
elder members of the family. 

When 1 came home, I met Mr. Stanford, who told me 
Lady B[urdett] • was arrived. In the evening I called on 

her and Lady L. B[ ]y, who has not yet left Nice ; 

but neither of them could receive me, so I went to the 
Miss Langston's and could have listened to their good 
instrument with pleasure, had it not been for the tiresome 
clack of Mr. M[ ], 



Wednesday, igth March. — This last week, one of my 
overcoming periods of returning sadness stopped my pen. 
Suspense, astonidmient, dismay, have all combined to 
make me feel that common daily notes were trivial and 
insufficient to express my state of mind. Lady Elphin- 
stone, her sister, a tutor, her boy and girl, and Lord and 
Lady Malpas, and her sister, a Miss Campbell, are also 

The Duchess of D[evonshire] has postponed her intended 
journey hither. Public news still imcertain. One hour 
one report takes the lead, the next, another, till conjecture 
is baffled, and belief is wholly suspended. Yesterday 
it was confidently asserted that Bonaparte entered Paris 
on the 20th, at night ; that not a blow was struck, 
or a re^tance made, bat that he entered amidst ac- 
clamations and rejoicings : that he had published various 
proclamations ; some sajring that Prussia should pay 
dearly for its conduct, and that Austria also should be 
punished. As to England, he added, " England is our 
friend ; we have nothing to fear in that quarter." {How 
invidious I) Other manifestos declared that Marseilles 
was "hors de la Loi." It was added that Napoleon 
was to be crowned on the first of May ; with many other 
particolars ; but nothing was known certainly of the 
King. Some said he had fled to Brussels. In the evening, 
however, the whole of this news seemed very doubtful, 
as no authentic account bad been received l^ the Com- 
mandant, or none that he would acknowledge. What 
was as agitating to my private interests was, hearing 
the Princess had arrived at Genoa, by a letter from 
Lady Glenbervie, written on Good Friday ; alas I giving 
me such accounts of everything on that score, as made 
me tremble. 



ON board the Clorinde, Captain Peckett, Sunday, 
I iMd April, 1815. — Who knows what a day may 
' bring forth ? The very next day after that 00 
which I last wrote my Journal, I spent the 
morning in gazing at a laige vessel that was on the 
horizon, without any presentiment that it was to convey 
me away so soon. Mr. Denison and the Consul came to 
visit me ; the latter infonned me that this vessel was 
the Princess's frigate, the aorinde, and was arrived at 
VJlle Franche, to convey Lady Charlotte Campbdl and 
hCT family to Genoa.* 

The Consul brought me several letters, one from the 
Princess, and one from Lady Glenbervie, both requesting 
me to accompany Lady C. CampbeU. 

What a multitude of contradictoiy emotions rapidly 
chased each other through my heart 1 The secret wish 

* The urival of the PiinceM of Wales at Genoa is tbni deacribed by 
Ume. de Bolgne : " The next day we saw in the streets of Genoa a 
sight which I ahall never forget. There was a kind of phaetoo cm- 
Btructed like a sea^beU. covered with Riding and mother-of-pead, 
coloured ontside, lined with blue velvet and decot ate d with dim 
fringes ; this was drawn by two very small mebald borses driven by a 
child who was dressed hke an operatic angd with spanglea and fleA- 
coloored tighta, and within it lonnged a fat woman of fiity yeais of 
age, short, plump, and high-coloured. She wore a pink hat with 
■even or eight pink feathers floating in the wind, a pink bodice cat 
very low, and a short white skirt which hardly came bdow her kneet^ 
showing two stout legs with pink top-boota ; a ro»e-c(donred aash, 
which she was continually draping. c<xnpleted this costume. Tho 



I have loDg felt to go to Genoa was in some decree checked 
by the doubts and fears of the ultimate good of this 
wish being gratified ; besides, on a fiist hearing, the 
idea of my being conveyed away in a moment seemed 
impossible. I took my letters, and read them with a 
palpitating heart. The note from Captain Pechdl 
recommended my going on board immediately, as he 
said Lady C. Campbell intended to do so ; and another 
note, from a Captain Campbell, who commands the 
Tremendous, the flag ship at Genoa, desired the Clorinde 
might not be detain^ above an hour. I wrote, therefor^ 
declaring my inability to obey Her Royal Highness's 
sommona* unless the Clorinde could wait till Saturday ; 
and when I weaxt to Lady Charlotte, she said she should 
be very glad not to leave Nice till that day, as it was 
extremely inconvenient to her and her fanuly to set off 
so suddenly. We were kept in suspense till evening, 
when Captain Pechell came to Lady CE— — 1 where I 
dined. Hadame Davidofi entered at the same moment, 
with one of her " Wells ? " 

I expected to see a certain tall pata pottff son of Lady 
Pechell's, and to my astonishment I beheld a very well- 
lookup; young man, bat a perfect stranger. I felt con- 
fused, from the nature of my own hopes and fears ; but 
when Lady Charlotte made known her wish not to go 
away till Saturday, he immediately agreed to wait till 
that time. Our destiny was now decided on this point, 

and Lady C[ ■] dismissed us all early ; and the next 

day we were all busy preparing for our departure. 

Mirlage was precednd by a tall and handBOiiie man [Betgami] mounted 
upon a littlB bcawi Uko those which drew the curiage ; he wu dreased 
piedMly liko King Mnrat, whose gestnrea and attitude he attempted 
to imitate. The carriage was followed by two gtttoam ia Engliah 
Uveiy and npon bones of the same kind. 

" This Neapolitan tam-ont was a gift from Hnrat to the Piinceaa 
of Walea, who exhibited heneU in this ridtcoloos costume and in thia 
•tnuige carriage. She appwied in the a tree te of Gwooa on tM> and 
the following nomingit" [llenuin^ ii. 39-^-} 



My physical as well as mental nature is always much 
affected by any variety of events, particularly by the 
fulfilment of those whkh I have myself wished for, or 
endeavoured to bring about. I scarcely could persuade 
myself that my departure was so near at hand ; for 
although I had long thought it possible the Princess of 
Wales would send for me, I did not imagine it would 
be at this moment. But thus it ever is through hfe, 
and death itself arrives as unforeseen, as unprepared for, 
as all that precedes it. From the instant I heard the 
-news, universal confusion succeeded in my occupations 
and hours, and I neither slept nor ate till yesterday, at 
four o'clock, when we embarked. My feelings are always 
roused to regret, at leaving a place where I have passed 
some pleasant hours ; and the general state of pubHc 
affairs is so unsettled and awful, that to leave a quiet 
spot, one Uttle likely to be disturbed l^ the general 
commotion, or any scene of horror, to go to one which, 
if war becomes general, cannot fail to be the scene of 
strife, made me feel nervous. Captain Pechell is well- 
looking, and has pleasing manners. 

In the morning, before I embarked, I walked all over 
Nice, to take leave of those I knew, many of whom had 
showed me not a little kindness ; Mesdames De St. 
Agatha!, De CezoUee, &c. &c. I met the Denisons, who, 
through the means of Melise, their drawing master, had 
leave to go and see Madame De Sevign^'s picture. I 
requested to be of the party, and accordingly, wearied 
as I was, and full of cares, I took the opportunity, and 
b^eld, in an old room full of cobwebs and dirt, this 
famous woman's resemblance. It speaks for itself, and 
must surely be an original. It is very like the one at 
Strawberry Hill, but has more truth and less affectation 
in the expression. It is not a face of regular beauty ; 
the nose is even coarse; but the mouth is beautiful, and 
the eyes lustrous ; the whole countenance is expressive 



of refinement and tenderness. How much I regretted 
not having attempted to copy it all the time I was at 
Nice 1 but I had put ofE doing so from day to day, and 
felt, for the hundredth time, that procrastination is our 
great and fatal enemy. I might have learnt to draw, 
I might have copied this famous picture ! " I m^ht 

have beai " whereas, what am I, and what have 

I done ? Alas ! alas 1 

I should particularly have liked to have had her 
picture ; for of all the generations who have praised 
Madame de Sevign6, and commended her writings, I 
am certain no (me has ever entered more completely 
into the sentimoit of her delightful letters than myself. 
It is melancholy that no similar instance of so perfect 
a love between parent and child has since been upon 
record. Doubtless, very many a true and devoted affec- 
tion has subsisted between such relations, who have 
not chronicled their love on paper, in the middle or lower 
classes ; but when do we hear of the hke amongst the 
great ? Oh t for a Madame de Sevign^ and a Madame 
de Grignan in these days I How the pubtication of 
SQch a correspondence as theirs would fjease me. It 
combined all the romance of love, with all the sober 
stedfastness of affection. — 

Full many a gem of purest ray serene 

The dark unf athomed caves of ocean bear ; 
Full many a flower is bom to blush unseen. 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 
I hope and beheve there are thousands such instances 
of love, that do not transpire to the knowledge of the 
world ; but I should hke that such a one should be 
discovered and brought to hght. 

I looked at Nice with interest, on the day we emt^xked. 
It was a beautiful evening. I felt a tender r^ret at the 
idea that I looked^at it for thej last time. The last 
time I there is a fund of sadnesi in those words. 



What a magnificent thing a forty-eight gun frigate 
is I how grand, how imposing 1 It is a command which 
must inspire a certain confideQce in the commander. 
That mastering of the elements is a noble proi^ative ; 
and when gentleness and suavity of manners accompanies 
strength, one feds req>ect for the being who unites these 
qualities. It wo\ild seem to me (as far as a cursory view 
of character can give a fair estimate) that Captain PecheU 
possesses them. 

We had the finest possible weather, and remained on 
deck till we got under weigh, gazing on the slowly reced- 
ing shore. After tea we went again on deck : tiie stars 
appeared gradually in the heaven, till it was richly 
spangled with their trembling light. A few sparks of 
fire ran upon the ripple of the wave, and we ghded im- 
perceptibly along the coast of the maritime Alps. The 
scene, the drcumstances, and my own situation, tc^ether 
with reflections on the public history of the time, the 
wondrous convulsion in which the ambition of a single 
individual has thrown the whole of Europe, — filled 
my mind with thoughts too numerous, too vast, to be 

Monday, zri of April, on hoard the Clorinde. — I slept, 
but it was a sleep so disturbed, so unlike that which 
steeps the senses in forgetfiilness, that I scarcely felt 
refreshed. Walking on the deck, and feeling the fresh 
breeze, gave me a new vigour. Lady Charlotte Campbell 
is a sweet-mannered person ; I should not say she was 
a happy one. Her children are a fine family : Hiss 
Eleanor Campbell, I think, will be a beautiful girl^ and 
they are all pecuharly agreeable for su<i yoimg persons. 

Lady C[ ]'s friend, Mademoiselle La Chanx, is clever, 

and must have been handsome. I hke the Captain and 
his brother very much ; they convey the idea of being 
good and respectable persons. Th^ both draw prettily 



and have good taste for music, although no sdenttfic 
or improved knowledge. I conversed with Captain 
Pechell, who seemed to have fonned a sad opinion of all 
the doings at Naples. Without Implicating any one. I 
made my own way of thinjring sufiBdently known, to 
prove that it had nothing in common with the situation 
I held. This I was glad to do, and thought it but justice 
to mysdS. 

I heard, among other strange inuendos, that the Princess 
of Wales wanted to go with Murat to Ancona, and that 
nothing but his positively refusing to receive Her Royal 
Highness, .prevented her going thither. She then em- 
barked at Civita Vecchia, which wasVthe worst place, it 
seems, she could have chosen, as they were obliged to 
row out several miles to sea, and it was eight days before 
the Captain could get near enough to take her on board I 

It is known, I am sorry to say, by every one, that she 
has quarrelled with Sir William GeU, and Mr. Craven, 
and Lady E. Forbes. In short, things, I trust, are going 
to change during Lady Charlotte Campbell's and my 
reign, or else we ^lall be obliged to suffer much, and 

ultimately to quit her service. Lady C[ } was much 

distressed to hear all Captain Pechell related, and the 
opinions he expressed about the poor dehided Princess. 
I cannot help hoping that Her Royal Highness will be 
influenced by our presence, and the force of circumstances, 
to better and wiser ' conduc1|; and, indeed, I think she 
has suffered enough to have ^'disgusted herself with her 
late behaviour. She has nothing for it but to go home 
to En^and ; but if she goes home, it must not be by 
sea, or we cannot accompany her. 

Tuesday, 4/A April, i8i3.-~Still on board the Qorinde. 
After an anxious night, I rose to pass the same sort of 
desultory day. I like my captain and his brother very 
much, and feel more acquainted with them than if I 



had been years on shore, and had no particular subject 
of interest to have made us acquainted. A selfish fe^ng 
of being under his care for a time, produces that sort of 
interest which long intimacy in other cases alone produces. 
Captain PecheU, in particular, has a respectable, good 
countenance, and a gentleness of demeanour, wbidi is 
an excellent substitute for courtly manners. 

We danced on deck, and I was surprised at my own 
security, and my ability to dance, as there was a con- 
siderable motion, and the wind constantly against us. 
But the sceneiy was so beautiful, and the weather so 
fine, I found the time too short which I passed on board 
the Clorinde. The Captain, too, enjoyed the voyage. 
He told me confidentially that he had not done so when 
carrying Lady 0[xfor]d and her family ; and that the 
behaviour of the )roung Lord H[arley] * had very much 
shocked him. 

Wednesday, 5th April, 1815.— Still on board. All was 
doubtful as to our arrival ; a heavy rolling sea and 
little wind ; what wind there was being against us. 
Sometimes they said we should reach Genoa that night ; 
sometimes that we could not. The latter proved the 
case. But we came within seven or eight miles of the city, 
which was illuminated, and appeared like a magic^ 
crescent bending round the bay. The circumstance of 
this illumination made us guess there was bad news ; 
bad for our way of thinking. Either Hurat had entered, 
or the Pope had fled thither, as it was reported he was 
to have done. I looked, till from fatigue I could look no 
longer, at the beauty of the illuminated town ; and after 
one more tedious night, we anchored in the harbour of 
Genoa, about ten o'clock on Wednesday, the 5th of April. 

For the first time in my life, reality exceeded ima- 
gination. The magnificence and beauty of this town, 

* Edward, Lord H&iley. born 1800, di«d Jannaiy i, iSaS. 



its situation, its gay and clean appearance, (so onlike 
aU other Itidian towns in that respect,) exceed desciip- 
tioD. The city is built on teiraces, which descend to 
- the sea-shore. Tlie fonn of the bay is that of a crescent, 
which is terminated on either side by rocks ; on one of 
which the principal part of the town is built, the cathe- 
dral, &c. : on the other, the lighthouse. Orange, ever- 
green oaks, oleanders, and other trees and shrubs are 
mingled among the marble palaces, and the hills rise in 
grand amphitheatre at the hack of this enchanted scene. 
I came on shore first with the Captain, in his gig. 
The Princess of Wales's palace is composed of red and 
white marble. Two large gardens, in the dressed formal 
style, extend some way on either side of the wings of 
the building, and conduct to the principal entrance by 
a rising terrace of grass, ill-kept, indeed, but which in 
careful hands would be beautiful. The hall and staircase 
are of iine dimensions, although there is no beauty in 
the architecture, which is plain, even to heaviness ; 
but a look of lavish magnificence dazzles the eyes. The 
large apartments, decorated with gilding, painted ceilings, 
and fine, though somewhat faded, furniture, have a very 
r^al appearance. The doors and windows open to a 
beautiful view of the bay, and the balmy air which they 
admit conspires with the scene around to captivate the 
senses. I should think this palace, and this climate, 
and its customs, must suit the Princess, if anything can 
suit her. Poor woman I she is ill at peace with herself ; 
and when that is the case, i^iat can ^ease ? Still there 
is a soothing power in this soft breeze, which, in despite 
of every circnmstance, lulls the mind for a time into 
forgetfi^ess. Certainly there is no place which, from 
its climate and its customs, combines so much to deaden 
mental siiffering as Italy ; but these contribute, even 
to a fearful extent, to an indolence of body and soul, 
which, though it gives temporary relief, is '"'"'''^* to a 



healthfol vigotir of mind. And wh^ we are aroused 
from that state of mental torpor into whidi it casts os, 
and are obliged to return to a ruder climate, or endnre 
some new trial, or perform the active duties of common 
life, it is too often found that Italy and its opium have 
done harm in a moral sense, if not in a physical one. 

What a long digression from my Journal ! I am 
often ashamed when I read over what I have written, 
to see how I allow my mind to wander, and my pen to 
note down so many of its vagaries. Yet I never have 
resolatlon to amend the style of my diaiy. And why 
should I not indulge myself by giving way to my feelings ? 
One must confide in some one, or in something ; and 
though it is very melancholy to be obliged to have re- 
course to the latter, still it is a comfort to have no secrets 
from one's Journal. It is this entire confidence, and 
ttiis alone, which renders it a pleasure to keep one. 

The Princess received me in one of the drawing-rooms, 
openii^ on the hanging terraces, covered with flowers 
in full bloom. Her Roy^ Highness received Lady 
Charlotte Campbell (who came in soon after me) with 
open arms, and evidait pleasure, and without any 
flurry. She bad no rot^ on, wore tidy shoes, was 
grown rather thinner, and located altogether uncommonly 
w^. The first person who opened the door to me was 
the one whom it was impossible to mistake, hearing 
what is reported ; six feet high, a magnificent head of 
black hair, pale complecdon, mustachios which reach 
from here to London. Such is the stork.* But of couise 
I only appeared to take him for an upper servant. The 
Princess immediately took me aside, and told me all 
that was true, and a great deal that was not. The same 

* Bortdomeo Pergami, known in England aa Bergami, formerly a 
mibsltem in an Italian regiment And reoonunended to the Princess of 
Wales by the Ifarcbeae Ghislieii. She thought him, acoordinf to 
Madame de Bmgne, like her hero Murat, and showered every kind of 
favour on him, making him, from hoc coniln, bcr cbamberhitai. 



decoction of mingled falsehood and troth is in use as 
hwetofore. Oh ! that some one would break the 
vial, and spill the vile liquid which she is using to her 
destmction in this world, as well as in the next I 

Her Royal Highness said that Gell and Craven had 
behaved very ill to her, and I am tempted to believe they 
have not behaved well ; but then how did she behave 
to them ? Besides, she began telling me such stories 
of them as made me sick, and that I in no way believe ; 
which immediately proved to me that she was lying, 
from the littleness of her heart. 

&11 has no foiy like a wconan scorned. 

All this I laid to its right account; but it made me 
tremUe to think what anger would induce a woman to 
do, when she abused these her best friends for their 
cavalier manner of treatii^ her. If there was any 
cause of complaint, I am sure it was broi^t about 
by her own conduct, and I lament that it should have 
been sa 

" Well, when I left Nafdes, jron see, my dear," con- 
tinued the Princess, " those gentlemen refused to go 
with me unless I returned immediately to England. 
They supposed I should be so miserable without them, 
that I would do anything they desired me ; and when 
they found I was too glad to get red of 'ettt, (as she called 
it,) they wrote the most humble letters, and thought I 
would take them back again ; whereas they were very 
much mistaken. I had got red of them, and I would 

Then came a descnption of the King and Queen of 
Na^des, the stable boy, and Buonaparte's si^ier. H» 
was all delightful, she was false and furious. The stable 
boy was a prince in disguise 1 

As to public news, the Princess repeated what I had 
heard before, that the Pope had fled hither, i.e., to Genoa ; 



that Murat had declared the independence of Italy ; 
that he said, il the King of Sardinia gave up Genoa, he 
would not attempt to take it ; that he wished for nothing 
so much as the friendship of the English ; and that he 
hoped the Princess would agrier his letter to Lord W. 
Bentinck, which was to this efiect. She then proceeded 
to show me a note she had received from Murat, a mere 
sugar-plum, not ill-written, but beginning " Madame, 
ma ch^e, ch^e Sceur," in quality of one king treating 
with his fellow sovereign. She also read me her answer. 
Such an answer 1 Certainly not unclever, but so flippant, 
so much beneath her dignity, so strange, and so wild, that 
I think if it remains upon record, it will afford one of 
the most curious specimens of royal letter-writing that 
ever was written. I cannot say how vexed I am at every 
fresh instance of the Princess's folly ; and whenever she 
commits herself on paper I am doubly annoyed ; for 
though so full of faults, or rather, to call them by their 
right name, vices, she has a noble and kindly nature ; 
and I always return to her education, to the example 
set to her by those who ought to have guarded her youth, 
not to have exposed it to be sullied by every degrading 
circumstance that could contaminate her character. 

She has heaped benefits on Lady C. C[ampbell], and 
sent her a thousand ducats in bard cash as soon as she 
arrived. Lady C[harlotte] told me this, and spoke with 
gratitude and afiection towards our poor mistress, though 
she confessed that it was painful to owe gratitude where 
esteem could not cancel the debt. " Yet," added Lady 
Qbarlotte], " I hope my services are of some use to Her 
Ro;^ Highness, and that the balance is pretty even 
on the score of obligation." 

After my long tUe-i-tHe with the Princess, we walked 
out on the terrace hom her boudoir. This terrace 
commands a view of the harbour of Genoa, the city 
placed around its beautiful crescent, and all this seen 



through trellises of oleander and various creeping plants, 
trained in good order round these lattice works ; at 
the feet of which are heds of every kind of flower, all now 
in full bloom and fragrance ; and at the ends of the 
different walks are marble fountains of classical designs, 
and quantities of the ptu'est springs constantly descend- 
ing from &otuY:es in the rock above, and refresUng every- 
thing with their cool and translucent waters. From 
this terrace you ascend to another, and then another, 
till you reach the wood above. The wood consists of the 
most beautiful evergreens, and various shrubs and plants 
of lighter foliage, scattered throughout. There is an 
ascent by a winding path to the summit of the rock 
above. I only went half way, but intend to explore 
further some day ; only this part of the grounds is 
locked up by the Giant, and without appl3ring to him, 
there is no entrance — a circumstance, together with his 
guardianship, which must lessen all enjos^ment of the 
scene. From the same story on which one of the lady's 
bedrooms is placed, there is an egress to a terrace, which 
Her Royal Highness calls Lady [— ~-]*s terrace. It is 
very beautiful, and there is a large fotmtain on a broad 
marble pavement, where one might pass hours and days 
of happiness in a scene truly enchanting, were it not for 
that vacuum in the heart which demands other aliment 
than the mere gratification of the senses. 

Lord and Lady Glenbervie dined with the Princess, 
as did Madame Falconet and her two daughters, who 
seem to be quiet, decent people, but veiy like cbamber- 

Thursday, 6tk of ^1^.— Breakfasted at the palace. 
Had 1 any occupation under the sun, I would prefer it 
to that of waiting upon this royal lady i but, having 
none, I am ^d of this one, unauited as it is to my taite 
in every way. I walked through this most beautiful 



of all towns. In saying this, I do not throw out a chance 
expression : it appears to me to be, as I say, the most 
beautiful of all towns. I walked through the Strada 
Nova and Novissima, Bocca Negra, &c. ; passed the 
Doria palace, famous for its history, but reckoned the 
least splendid of the palaces. These streets are a suc- 
cession of palaces. L-arge porte-coch^es open into 
corridors supported by columns, and others into spacious 
courts, from whence flights of marble steps, covered 
with statues, ascend to the apartments above ; and 
in the midst of these staircases are fountains and large 
vases of flowers, placed on the sides of the bulustrades. 
Almost every palace has its garden, and there is a lavish 
magnificence expressed in every feature of the place, 
which seems to say that liberty and commerce are the 
foundation of all greatness. The refinement of classic 
elegance and pure architecture is not found here ; but 
such grandeur, such picturesque effect, such wildness 
of magnificence, and such a scorn of gold, are impressed 
on every object, that even taste itself leaves its nicer 
discrimination, to feel all the romance of tmfettered fancy, 
and loses its fastidiousness in admiration. 

I went to I-ady S[ ] ; found her very kind, but he 

was kinder than she (I mean Lord S[ — -]). Lady S[ J 

and Miss M[ ] were going to sec the Pope. There 

has been some little affront on the part of the Princess 
towards his Holiness. I met Lord B[radford]. He has 
a kind and affectionate manner, and evinced it so very 
strongly towards me, that I cannot choose but like him. 
He walked about the town with me, then dined with the 
Princess, who likes him exceedingly ; so does or did 
her royal husband, the Prince. He was the friend of 
Mrs. Fitzherbert, and could, I should think, reveal 
many a curious anecdote. I have often observed that 
the Prince and Princess of Wales have a strange 
sympathy in their loves and hatreds. 



Friday, yfh April. — The Princess received a visit from 
Lady W. Bentinck, accompanied by Madame D'Osmont,* 
the French Ambassador's wife and Madame D'Auloyne, 
[de Boigne] or some such name, her daughter. The 
first is a very cross-looking personage, and the Princess's 
manner of receiving her did not lessen this crossness. 
Fot some reason or other, or more likely from some caprice. 
Her Royal Highness chose to treat Madame D'Oanont 
like a dog ; hardly spoke, and what she did say was dry 
and disagreeable. When these persons were dismissed. 
Lady W Bentinck was desired to remain a inoment alone 
with the Princess ; so Lady C. Campbell and myself, who 
were in attendance, accompanied Madame D'Osmont 
into the ante-chamber. The latter said, if the Princess 
had not a mind to receive the French Ambassador's 
wife, she need not, but that it was quite unnecessary to 
be so uncivil. I made an excuse, sajdng, Her Royal 
Highness had many private subjects of annoyance, and 
that I was sure some unpleasant news must have been 
the cause of making her so silent. And this excuse was 
in part true, for she had received letters from H[ ] 

* Nit Dillon, wife of the Harquis d'Osmond. Her dsaghter, 
Madame de Boigne [Memoirs. U. 41 et uq.\ gives this acconnt of the 
interview r " It was necessary to go and pay our respects to this 
merry-andrew, aa her poeitioii required. She hated us as she con- 
sidered us hostile to the King [Murat], and gave herself the petty 
pleaanre of great mdeness. We went with Lady William Bentinck 
at a day and bonr fixed by her. She kept ns waiting a long time, and 
at length we were admitted to a green arbonr where she was lunching, 
dressed in an open dressing-gown, with Bergami to wait upon her. 
After a few words to my mother, she attempted to speak nothing but 
English to Lady ^A^lliam. She was somewhat disconcerted to find us 
alao taking ftait in the conversation, from which she had hoped to 
exaude us, and was thus reduced to speaking of the virtues and the 
royal and military talents of Muiat. . . - We were in no way tempted 
to renew the acquaintance. She in^ted that my father had helped 
to secure the order tor her departure, an utteriy false assertion. If 
the Gorenunent had been urged by any one, it was rather by Lady 
William BentiDck. who was greatly weary of her. Lord William and 
Mr. Hill [who lui^ gone ofi specially to Turin] were spared these 



about money matters, which considerably embarrassed 
her. ^Madame D'Osmont repHed, with bitterness, " Yes; 
I should think she must have many private causes of 

" Murat is advancing rapidly," observed Hadame 
D'Osmont, after a pause. I looked grave, and afiected 
not to understand. Shortly after, I changed the con- 
versation, and expressed my own sentiments. She 
caught my hand, and said, wannly, " Thank you — thank 
you, for that." I forgave her former crossness. Soon 
after, Lady W. Bentinck came out, and they all went 

The Princess made known to me her wild schemes of 
travelling- on, and oo, to the Lord knows where, and 
complained bitterly that Lady C. C[ampbel]l had declined 
remaining in her household, and said, when Her Royal 
Highness left Genoa, she would give up her situation. 
The Princess asked me then, " Who shall I take along with 

me ? " I ventured to name Miss M[ ]e. " I think she 

will do." Yes ; because she knows not what else wiU. 
She told me Lady W. Bentinck was a very meddling 
woman,* and why ? because she had not forwarded a 
letter she gave her to Murat. " But she shall know that I 
never take advice, I have a banker at Florence, and a 
banker here, and will write to my banker at Florence, to 
give the letter, which I will inclose to him. By G^, when 
I will do a thing, I doot" — and she walked to and fro. 

Monsieur de La Rue was announced. Her Royal 
Highness desired him to talk to me while she wrote some 
letters. We walked in the beautiful garden, but he is a 
tiresome man. Lord Glenbervie always dines here ; a 
very great comfort. 

The Princess held a sort of a drawing-room in the 
evening, which was respectably attended, and went o£E 



very property. Among the petsons who came to it, 
were the Queen of Etruria, and the Archduke [? Grand 
Duke] Constantine. 

Satwday, 8ih ^l^r*/.— I went with Lady Glenbervie to a 
Signor di N^ri, one of the nobles of Genoa. He is a poet, 
an impFOvisatore, and a musician. His house and garden 
are a little terrestrial paradise : never did I see such 
an enchanted spot. It only wants the comfort of sofas 
and chairs, to make it quite perfect. One terrace above 
another leads to grottos, bowers, trellises, from all of which 
different views of Genoa present themselves, in exquisite 
points of beauty. Flowers innumerable embalm the air. 

Stgnor Negri improvisM at our request. It was the 
first time I ever heard verse poured forth in spontaneous 
numbers. The wonder at that power, and the answering 
flame of poetic fire with which it inspired me, all com- 
bined to inebriate my fancy. I had but an imperfect 
understanding, however, of his lays. The theme Lady 
Glenbervie gave him was The Poet's Paradise, He com- 
menced by an apology — went on to call the beauties of 
spring to his aid — and then made allusion to some of our 
poets, Dryden and Milton, from whence he very ingeni- 
ously descended to praise the female part of his audience. 
I do not beheve there was anybody present but Dr. 

H[ ^ who knew much about it. Nevertheless, I admired 

his tal^t, though I did not think his subject well chosen. 
He played well on the harp ; but what pleased me most 

was, that Signor N^ri told me he had been at D[ ]. 

I felt proud to tell him it was the place of my forefathers ; 
those honourable forefathers of whom I may justly feel 
proud. He admired the grandeur of its scenery, although 
so different in its character of beauty from this. And on 
my sa3ring, " We also can boast of poetry and song," 
he named Ossian and Bums, and immediately b^an 
reciting some lines in praise of Ossian's Halvina, which 



he said he weU remembered. His voice was rather 
melodious, but nothing more. 

I do not think he excels io any of the accomphshments 
he professes, but he loves them all with the ardour 
pecuhar to his country. He reverences the arts, and 
pursues them with an e^ro that does one's heart good. 
What a pity it is that those who are endowed with the 
mechanical power of skill in small things, often lack the 
enthusiasm and feeling which others, who have leas 
handicraft and head, possess in such a pre-eminent degree. 
Lady C. C[ampbell] sang a Scotch song to him in return, 
which he did not much care for, because the words were 
not particularly fine, and he regards music only as the 
vehicle of poetry. 

A Monsieur and Madame D'Amiser, or D'6 Amer (I 
know not which) dined at the Princess's. She is a Nea- 
pohtan ; he is a French general, who served Murat, and is 
attached to him, but, owing to some dissatisfaction, 
leaves the court of Naples, and is returning to Bourdeaux. 
I was left to talk to him en tHe'tt-tHe, and found him a very 
sensible, agreeable man, more like a solid quiet English- 
man than a foreigner. He is only thirty, but might be 
any age, from his appearance. I never saw so old-look- 
ing a person for his time of hfe. He spoke reasonably 
about pohtics ; said he had never known the Bourbons, 
and was too young to have formed any attachment to 
them ; but, had he once sworn fideUty, he never would 
have been so vile as to have forsaken their cause. The 
evening was tolerably agreeable. 

Sunday, April gth, 1815. — Went out at eight o'clock, 
to see the Pope perform mass in the cathedral, but was 
too late to be able to see any part of the ceremony. The 
church was so crowded, there was hardly room to squeeze 
through the middle aisle. We met, however, the Pope's 
secretary, who directed me very civilly, through a low 



door, into an adjoining house belonging to some Cardinal, 
where the Pope was to go after mass to take refreshment. 
The soldiers who Uned the way, at first refused me admit- 
tance ; but some one cried out " Inglese, Inglese ! " and 
immediately we had way made for us to pass. I went up 
stairs to a large apartment, where many others waited 
besides m)rself ; and there I saw La sua SantUd pass close 
by me. He is a Uttle man, and bowed with age, but of 
a noble aspect, and a peculiar serenity of countenance. 
After he had passed by, I was not satisfied with so cursory 
a glance, and waited in the hope of being presented to him. 
My friend, his secretary, came forth and desired me to 
pass into an irmer room, a place of greater honour, within 
two of that in which the Pope was eatii^ cakes and ices. 
I did so ; and I believe I should have been presented at 
him, had not Dr. Holland unfortunately observed thto 
Lady C. Campbell and Lady Glenbervie, whose party 1 
joined, were attendants of the Princess of Wales — Uiinldng 
that would gain us all more favour. But the title of the 
poor Princess's attendants conveys no reflected grandeur, 
but the reverse. I have often remarked this lately with 
regret ; and in the present instance I fancy it is particu- 
larly obnoxious ; as the Pope at first showed Her Royal 
Highness every sort of respect, paid her passage through 
his dominions, &c. : and on returning that way she wholly 
neglected him, besides committing some other ^[regions 
offences. Accordingly, a message was sent to say the 
Pope could only receive ladies at his own palace. We were 
obliged, therefore, to depart unsatisfied ; but he sent us 
out some iced lemonade, which he had blessed, by way of 

After this we went to our own service. It was not 
performed with that holy and reverent feeling which I 
have of late witnessed at Nice : still it is gratifying to 
meet with our own mode of worship in a foreign land. 

The Princess drove out in the afternoon, and made me 



accompany her. She uses a shewy equipage, with the 
courier dressed up, riding on one side, and a man like 
a puppet-show man riding before Wilhkin on the other. 
She has small cream-coloured ponies, fit only to drive 
about a park in. Her Royal Highness never goes to see 
any of tiie many objects worth seeing here, and never 
drives through tiie streets, but confines herself wholly to 
the delights of the garden at the back of the house. When 
she goes be)rond her own grounds, she only drives on the 
road called S. Pierre D' Arena, for about six miles. A most 
beautiful road it is. Lady Glenbervie dined, as usual, 
with the Princess ; a great and continued comfort. I 
have never yet been able to detect any impropriety of 
manner, or even famiharity, towards the courier yet ; 
but I live in fear every moment of having the horrid 
stories confirmed before my eyes. I should far rather 
go on doubting, than be convinced of their truth. The 
rascal — for such I am sure he is, in the way of cheating 
Her Royal Highness — ^is very handsome. I have never 
hitherto observed anything with regard to him, as I did 
with the singers. I hope the whole is a lie. 

llie Princess had evening prayers on Sundays, and some 
of her English attendants were present. I wish she would 
attend church ; it is a pity she does not, I may say, even 
for form's sake ; it would be a blessing to all that wish 
her well, that she should mind the outward duties of a 
Protestant Princess. 

Monday, io*A. — Went early in the day to sec the 
Brignole palace, II Palazzo Rosso. There are four 
magnificent apartments 'on each side, on the ground floor, 
called after the four seasons, with appropriate decorations, 
and endiog in a gallery named " The Life of Man," which 
idea reminded me of Shakspeare's Seven Ages. Above 
this range of apartments is another suite, which are let, 
and are just now occupied by I<ady Dalrymple. There are 



several good pictures : ooe, the Rape of the Sabtnes, by 
Valeiio Costello, a Genoese painter ; and two half-length 
figures of our Saviour and the Virgin, by Guido. There is 
mudi sweetness in the expression of the countenances, 
but Uttle grandeur in the figures. Two portraits by 
Vandyck ; the one of Antonio Giulio Bngnole Sale, on 
horseback, and his wife ; both magnificent specimens of 
the artist. The horse's head, and the dignity of the male 
figure, striking. An unpleasant picture (in the conception 
of the story) of Christ turning the changers out of the 
Temple, by Gian Francesco Barbari, detto II Guercino 
da Cento ; with a want of heavenly grandeur in the figure 
of the Saviour wholly unbecoming the sacred character ; 
and two large pictures by Michael Angelo Da Carravagio ; 
the resurrection of Lazarus, the subject of one ; that of the 
other taken from Tasso, of Safironia and Olinda at the 
stake, Clorinda on horseback. These formed the collec- 
tion. The figure of Clorinda is beautiful ; her hand 
resting on her horse's neck, is very lovely ; but she is 
made the principal figure, and yet is placed in the corner, 
and so much in the foreground, that half her form and 
that of her horse alone is seen. There appears to me 
something ill contrived in the general arrangement ""of 
the composition, but it is a pleasing picture, and one I 
would willingly have carried away. Its companion is in 
my opinion wholly manqui : the figures hard and tmgrace- 
ful, and no sraise of awe is inspired in beholding it. 

These rooms have all painted ceilings. If not by the 
first masters, they are very tolerably executed, and give a 
richness to the general effect of an apartment. In those 
called the Four Seasons, there are mf^ificent frames to 
the mirrors, carved in various rare woods, in the most 
exquisite manner — birds, and insects, and flowers, and 
fruits, and hanging foliage, after the manner of our Gibbon. 
In the Camera detta del Invemo there hangs a large picture, 
reckoned fine, by Paolo Da Verona : the subject, Judith 



cutting ofE Holofemes' head. A black slave holds the 
sack in which she is depositing it. The only remarkable 
drcumstance I observed in this picture was, the exact 
resemblance I saw in its colouring to that ol Sir Joshua 

Tuesday, nth of April, 1815. — I went to call on the 
Princess Grassalkovich. I hke her and her Prince vastly. 
I found it difficult, however, to tmst the state of things 
into any thir^ like respectability, and they ended by saying 
Lady Glenbervie and Lady C. C[ampbelil were very good, 
to remain in their situations. This, alas ! is the melan- 
choly account I hear of my royal friend. They detained 
me so long I was nearly too late to be in waiting to receive 
the King of Sardinia's chamberlain, who paid his master's 
respects very politely to Her Royal Highness. He had a 
long conference with her : so also had the Kii^ of Prussia's 
chamberlain, Monsieur De Raudel. These persons were 
telling her the pubhc news when I entered, and I evidently 
saw it did not please her. They said it was impossiUe 
for Murat to pass the Po ; and I am sadly afraid the 
Princess had some foohsh mad scheme in her head about 
him ; which frightens me more than the rest of her doings. 
How much more was this increased when Her Royal 
Highness asked me, as soon as these chamberlains were 
departed, if I thought Lady Glenbervie's and Lady 
C. C[ampbell]'s health was equal to a journey ; — whidh 
preface ended by telling me, that next week she intended 
to go to Venice, 

" An affair," said she, *' my dear [ X of ten days ; 

two days to go, two to come back, and four to remain 
there." ♦ 

* Her Royal HighDcsa was not very exact in her calcul&tioiu t 
I once heard her ask what o'clock it was f Hei page, Mr. Steinman. 
answered, " Eight o'clock, please your Royal Highness I " " It does 
not please me," said she ; " it is only six o'clock." " Cerbuoly," 



Four dajre sufficient, in her estimation, to see Venice ! 
The Piincess added, that the whole expense of this 
jvnhet would not he more than a thousand lottts-d'or ; 
and she holds that sum cheap for a mere fancy 1 Then 
she is going to change this house, and go to some other, 
which ^e is to see to-day or to-morrow. Captain Pechell 
is to row her round in his boat to the other side of Genoa. 
How strange, how wild, are all her thoi^hts, words, and 
actions ! I really think she has a bee in her bonnet. I 
hope yet something may change this plan. The idea of 
her crossing over a part of the country so near the seat 
of war, and of being prevented from gettii^ back here, 
terrifies us all. 

Wednesday, I2th of April.— We, that is all Her Royal 
Highness's attendants, held a council of war at Lady 
Glenbervie's, and decided that the ladies, at least, shotdd 
refuse to accompany Her Royal Highness to Venice, as 
it was most improper to set forth, not knowing if we 
should be allowed to return. 

If she is bent on this excursion, she may choose to go 
with some of her attendants; but I trust she will be 
persuaded to defer her intention to a more fitting season, 

I went to see St. Cyr, one of the most beautiful churches 
in Genoa, perhaps the most so, in respect to the richness 
of its decorations. It is all marble and precious stones ; 
the pulpit is inlaid like a gem ; and the ceiling is richly 
gilt and painted. From St. Cyr I proceeded to St. Am- 
brosio. This church contains the finest picture in Genoa, 
the Assmnption of the Vii^, by Guido. The subject 
is magnificently managed, and contains, in fact, two great 
ideas — one of earthly, the other of heavenly t hi ngs ; 
replied the well-educated page of honour, " it ia only six o'clock, then ; 
aa your Royal Highness commands it should be." This was almost 
ai characteristic an answer as was made by the Cardinal de Rohan 
to the Queen of France, when Her Majesty commanded him to execute 
some difiicalt order — " Madajue, s'il est possible, c'est deja tait ; si 
c'ot impossible, ca ae fera." [Original note.) 



but they are so well blended together, that they become 
one grand whole. The lower part of]the picture consists 
of the apostles, in various attitudes of admiration and 
adoration : the upper is a semicircle of acgels and arch- 
angels, seated on clouds, and winging their way to heaven. 
In the midst is placed the Virgin, clothed in white drapery, 
her hands meekly folded on her breast — her eyes cast 
upwards — and the whole head foreshortened. One arm 
seems to stand out from the canvas. The figure is grandly 
simple. The whiteness of her ganneqt is at once splendid 
and yet mellow ; her attitude natural, yet graceful in the 
extreme. There is no trick of beauty either in her attire, 
her air, her expression. She is worshippii^ supreme power 
in spirit and in truth, and is home by angels to supreme 
beatitude. The whole tone of the picture is one grand 
solemn tint : the lights fall from the radiance which 
descends on the Vii^in alone, and are thence led off 
subordinately upon the other figures. Many of the angels 
are of exquisite beauty and lightness : one of the principal 
ones to the right, in particular ; and beside that one, a 
httle behind him, is the head of a cherub, with hands 
joined in the attitude of prayer. A thousand minor 
beauties might be seen in this picture, but we had only 
a certain time to gaze and to admire, and I was desirous 
to look at the others. Two more, said to be by Rubens, 
and in his style, are in the same church ; one over the 
altar, of the Circumcision ; the other of a Jesuit curing 
one possessed, and bringing to hft a dead child. Of these 
two pictures I prefer the latter, though there was some- 
thing grand in the composition of the former : but the 
angels, and palms, and cherubim, in the air, did not 
please my eye, after those of Guido. There is a streaki- 
ness in Rubens's maimer of colouring his back-groimds, 
and a red unfinished tint on his fillers, not to mention 
the fat flabbiness of his women, which I dislike. AH these 
faults are much less observable in the picture of the Jesuit 



healing the sick and bringing to life the child> than in any 
work of his I ever saw. The PossSdi is truly " maniac 
and demoniac," and the figure of the woman foreshortened 
(in the right comer of the picture) bending over the dead 
infant, expresses all the passions she is supposed to feel ; 
although the face is scarcely seen. This church, like that 
of St. Cyr, is encrusted with marble ; the ceiling richly 
gilt and painted. Part of the cupola is destroyed by 
damp, or some other cause ; perhaps by the revolu- 
tionists ; for in this church, in the middle of the build- 
iog> was placed the dreadful guillotine : — the doors of the 
church were shut, but the victims were led to their fate 
along the galleries, and by the passages which were des- 
tined for the oiganist or singers. God forbid such times 
should ever return 1 I shuddered at the recollection. 

I went to the Doge's Palace, now the Royal Palace. 
The great room of audience is the finest space I ever 
beheld — a hundred and thirty feet long. In the times 
of general desolation, the marble balustrade which sur- 
rounded the gallery that runs round the top of the room, 
and the statues which decorated it, were destrojred ; so 
that now their place is supphed by an iron rail and casts ! 

I was delighted to learn from Lady Glenbervie,^when 
I returned to the Princess's palace, that before^Lady 

G[ ] made known her determination about the Venice 

expedition, the wind had veered. Her Ro)ral High- 
ness was in perfect good humour, and said, " It don't 
sinifies, some months hence will do just so well." " So," 

said Lady G{ X " the burden was off my spirits without 


The Kmg of Prussia's chamberlain dined at the royal 
table. He is a very agreeable, eccentric man, and seems 
a good person. He reprobated, but in the mildest manner 
possible, the interest that the Princess expressed for 
persons whom it scarcely smted her to kntm, and said, 
" what will become of her own intereata, if such are hw 



principles ? " I said what I could in extenuation. He 
asked me how long I had been in Her Royal Highness's 
service, and if I never had quairelled with her. " Ah ! 
c'est bien," he said, when I answered him — " c'est mervei- 
lleux." Then he proceeded to speak about religion, and 
my opinions thereon seemed to please him so much, that 
he exclaimed, " C'est beau, c'est vraiment beau 1 ah ! 
je vous remercie," and he took my hand, and pressed it. 

This man is quite original, a singular person to be about 
a court. He is full of fire and enthusiasm, and of good 
and devout principle ; in person old, ugly, and dirty. 
" Cependant, vous dtes protestante," said he to me. 
This " cependant " diverted me, but I replied, " Surely all 
Christians are of the same religion, ^though they difier 
in points of form." Again he was pleased with me. We 
were not, of course, allowed to converse very long together. 
We were called to the royal sofa, and the topics of dis- 
course took another turn. Sometimes Monsieur [ ] 

opened his eyes wide at the Princess's declarations ; 
and Her Royal Highness enjoys making people stare, so 
she gave free vent to her tongue, and said a number of 
odd things, some of which she thinks and some she does 
not ; but it eunuses her to astonish an innocent-mmded 
being, and really such did this old man appear to be. 
He won her heart upon the whole, however, by paying a 
compliment to her fine arm, and asking for her glove. 
Obtaining it, he placed it next his heart, and, declaring 
it should be found in his tomb, he swore he was of the old 
school in all things. He had a great deal of varied 
anecdote and conversation, which was very amusing. 
Was he sincere F 

Thursday, 13th April. — I wrote and read all the mom 
ing : it rained, and there was no going to see sights. The 
oidy event of to-day was the receipt of one of my friend 
Cell's unique letters, which are always a treat. 



"^ Mv DEAR [ ], — Mr. Tringsberg has requested me to 

enclose to you a letter to the Princess's cook, Mrs. Grundy 
Thompson, maker of stews and sauces. Be jileased to deliver 
the same. I received a letter frcmi you at a moment when 
it was quite impossible to answer it, for we have been all 
sent to Coventry by the rest of the world ever since poOT 
King Jehcnakim set out on the conquest of Italy, which has 
bad the fate every one propheded, and has been the ruin and 
destructioD of many worthy pec^le. We have been taken, 
murdered, sacked, bombarded, threatened, executed, pillaged, 
and everything else which is usual in conquered states. Yet 
though I have feared much from the populace, I have suffered 
nothing as bad as two fits of the gout wMch I have had 
during the fortnight in which we have been so maltreated, 
and under which fits I still labour, with my foot over a caldron 
of IxHling water, under which is a hot pan of coals. Lord I 
how it burns ; and the flannel which is around it emits the 
odour of burnt pens ; which, if you ever were a school-boy, 
and had toasted in a candle, you would remember to have 
found very agreeable. I smell the ascending odour of a 
lamb and tortoise in a brazen caldron boiled. 

Brass hes above, and brass below, the fiesh. 

This was the answer which the Oracle of Delphi sent to King 
Crcesus, when he sent them the question of " What's my 
thou^t like ? " to try whether the Pyttuan was up to snuff 
or not. However, you never could have guessed what X 
was doing, if I had not told you. Craven is gone to the opera, 
to see the illumination for Prince Leopold Calfsheadsky, a 
Polish Prince, who is to be there. We have seen some delight- 
ful interviews between friends and relations, just come £rom 
Sicily, after so long a banishment. I should think at least 
ten thousand kisses have been given in the course of the 
day, and many miles of maccaroni eaten on the happy occa* 
9on. Among the good things, I saw the mules landed from 
a transport, who lacked, brayed, and then flew on shore in 
the manner here shewn,* thitilring they had done it all by 
dint of genius themselves. 

^ In the original letter there is a ridiculous drawing of an «3B, hanging 
suspended in the air by cords, and a man pullii^ it by the tmdle dowa 
to the earth. [Original note.] 



Oh 1 my foot, it is regularly boiled, like potatoes in a 
patent steam kitchen ; besides which Carrington has just 
given me a innch. I recommend the gout to all married 
couples, when they are too happy for this world. 

If you had been here lately, the news of all that has passed 
might amuse and interest you ; but as It is, I must tell you 
that I hear the Queen is furious about grang to Trieste, though 
they have it under her own hand, that she wished it. Captain 

C[ J bad the management of it, but is not at all to blame. 

(h) the contrary, the Queen's negodatOT, by trying to be 
too cunning, has overreached himself. Some people called 
him Count Uosbourg ; others. Count Noseberry. Talking of 
Berrys, those cruel traitresses have never written a line to us 
since our departure — faithless jades as they be ; though I 
offered to conduct thiem to Nice, and many other dvihties, 
besides marrying them all, which they lost by going to stride 
over Scotland, in a snow-storm, trailing after them that 
good old man, their father, under pretence that he wished 
once again to see the heath where he was bom. Really too 
wicked I Mis. Damer, how could I send your marble to 
Nice, London, or elsewhere, when you have been blockading 
us by sea and land for the last two months ? As to files, 
I have got one or two ; but the robbers who conquered 
Mis. and Miss R[awdo]n, took them among the other 
valuables, so that only these remain, which they threw in 
Knutson, Schomandtren^, or Canutson's face, \rtien thc^ 
found of how httle value they were ; while be, good man, 
was occupied in preserving what he calls Paiej^s ;%5,~-wbicb, 
by the strict scrutiny of a jury of matrons r^ulaiiy 
empannelled, was discovered to mean the gentle ^yle/t 

What a beautiful house we have got, the envy of Lady 
Westmoreland, who drank tea with us last night t At this 
moment the moon is just rising over th« bleak barren bills of 
Sorrento, and faintly gilding the lofty rocks of C^>ri, irtule 
the waves in gentle murmurs break on the terrace of the Fran- 
carilla garden below my balcony, which is covered with a 
prolusion of roses and carnations. Ah I Maria 1 what a 
scene I But here comes Eustace and his Classical Tour, to 
tea. I must leave the window and its romantic delights, for 
the charms of hyson and souchong ; not to mention curds 



fFom Ischia. Shall I help yoa 7 Would this last question 
were not a joke ! 

If this is brought to you by Count Leeching, patronize him, 
being a friend of mine, who will I think entertain you. Give 
my love to my fair and lovely friend, and tell her I wish 

the house of A[ ] may reign triumphant on the shores of 

M[ ] and I[ ], and when, seven years before the end 

of the world, a deluge shall drown the nations, may Columbus' 
Isle still swim above the flood, though the sea should at one 
tide cover the green-headed ![ ] and Ireland. 

Ever thy friend — I would say best, did I dare, my dear 

[ ], at least I may say, not thy worst, 


I send you some verses, excuse the freedom. 

AtuOher Letter from Sis W. Gell. 

My dear [ ], — ^Not having been at home n4ien your 

note came, and finding that it was infinitely too hot to send 
any unhappy Christian to toil through the sun and up your 
hill, I would not send you an answer ; but my servant has 
discovered that you have a penny-post of your own, which 
conveys things to you in the course of some weeks, so I 
shall fire at it. The Gazette contains a decree, awarding to 
Guglielmo Papre, the small sum of 500,000 ducats (about 
100,000/.) which he has most magnanimously refused, saying 
that what he had done was for tiie universal good, and not 
for filthy lucre. Also the officers of the Avellino army were 
promised a step of promotion, which would have made a 
great difficulty, as the rest of the aimy might have also 
claimed it ; but they have all refused to accept it. Finally, 
all have refused the orders, and ribbons, and stars, wi^ 
which they were to be rewarded, and all from a spirit of 
patriotism and tdderolitilUy. It is said the militia have 
also refused four Carlines a day to take them h<Hne. One 
would give them ten to go. The money comes out of a fund 
of thirteen millions, found concealed for his most gracious 
Majesty the Doctor, and the florid Duchess. This hoard of 
money secures for this revolution what has always been 
wanting in other revolutions, money for immediate use, 
without having recourse to pillage through necessity. 



Of the ships seen through your gl^sa we have no accouBta. 
Have you seen the Queen's " Green Bag," now befcffe the 
bouse of Lords ? It begins thus : 

Since the law of the land has established the thing. 
And Judge Blackstoae declares " the Queen equals the 

As I always must think that a generous naticsi 
May desire to know who gave fast provocation, 
Which the household of Royalty turned upside down. 
And which threatens the credit and peace of the Crown, 
I do tie all my evidence up in a bag. 
And present, like my husband, my,Royal Green Bag. 
Uein Gotts I or, my Lords, I believe I should say, 
What right has my husband to^drive me away ? 
Do they think with their Oliver, Castles, and spies. 
To make me sit silent to prove all their lies ? 
Let them send all their carles to Milan and Rome 
To hash up a story to publish at home. 
Or their Browns to spy Como and Lombardy round. 
And expend— for the nation — twice ten thousand pound. 
Such plots and such plans, I may safely defy. 
For Brown ne'er can blacken the white of my eye. 
While their Redens and Omptedas charged with commission 
To hunt me through Europe without intermission. 
Have only exposed, when they drove me from Rome, 
The meanness of those who employed them at home. 
At one great distance off, and one great while ago, 
I lived safe wit my fader at Brunswick, ye know ; 
And although it be not the most favoured of lands. 
Because 'tis surrounded with deserts and sands, 
Yet many fine things may still Brunswick adorn. 
Though the stupidest place that God ever did bom ; 
And de mens nught be brave, and de women be good, 
Though{they feed on sour-kraut in a palace of wood. 
So my fader took part in all wars and all quarrels. 
And my moder she scold and take care of my morals ; 
So she gave me the Bible, but pinn'd up some pages. 
Not suited, ^ said, to all girls, nor all ages ; 
But I knew all good Chiistians should read all dat hoc^. 
So I unpinned Qyt pages and ventured to look. 



Then she call me one day, and she tell me fine tales. 
Of bow I should surely be Princess von VaUs. 
I talk of my heart, but she tell me 'twas just 
Like de preach to de wind, for 'twas fixed, and I must ; 
But she tell me my husband not send for me yet. 
Till the nation consented to pay off his debt. 
So I soon found my hopes and my pride tumble down, 
And was sold to my husband for less than a crovn. 
So I leave old mamma, which I like very well. 
And quit, without crying, both Brunswick and Zell, 
Forget Sostock, and Klopstock, and Weimar, and Schiller, 
With Professor Fonfrarius and learned Von Miller ; 
And I Hnk to myself, though the thought was in vain, 
I'll be whipt if ye catch me among ye again.* 
I cannot remember more of the Green Bag. Some say 
Tommy Hore, some Sir Harry Englefield, some Southey, and 
some Campbell, is the author. 

Ever yours, 

Peter Proud. 
Friday, the 14M of April. — I cannot recollect faow the 
moming passed — in nothing ires marqtU, I am sure. In 
the evening there was a circle as formal and dull as 
possible, but still I was glad to see such respect did still 
exist towards Her Royal Highness. Lord W. Bentinck 
talked a great deal with me. There is something so 
kindly and good in his manner ; and I remembered too 
my first childish fancy of friendship for bis brother, the 
Doke of P[ortlaii]d, which gave the conversatirai seme 
interest, like dreams long forgotten, these recollections 
sometimes recur ; and when, as in the present case, they 
were wholly pure and pleasurable, they cannot fail of 
coming back with a " chaxm under their wings " — for we 
can only be said to live when we have been excited to feel. 

• These versos appear to have been writtwi at a later period than 
tbat of the Princew of Wales's sojonm at Genoa, bnt tliey came in 
at this part of the Journal, and I have made it a rule not to displaca 
the MS., but merely had it transcribed as it was given into my tiands. 
Indeed, it mattais little wh«f« ttM above clever lines are introduced, 
for they would be welcome anywhere. [Original note.] 



After the people went away, the Princess kept me up 
till very late, talking over her grievances with her ex- 
chambCTlains. I could not help thinking, whatever 
were Her Royal Highness's faults, they must have been 
also to blame. The spirit of expediency, which I had 
hoped found no dwelling-place in their minds or hearts, 
must have led them to think it wisest to leave her service ; 
but they should have attended her till she got others. 
Among many stories too shocking to put on paper, and 
which, I make no doubt, were mostly, if not all, Ues, the 
Princess told me one of the minor but meaner kind, with 
such detail of circumstance that my faith was staggered. 
It was nearly as follows : Some time about Christmas, 
Sir W. Gell came to me and said, in his cavalier manner, 
" Craven and I want two coats, and your Ro)ral Highness 
must give us thirty ducats to buy them." " Very well," 
I said ; and soon after I sent for Siccard and told him. 
Siccard said, " surely your Ro3ral Highness is mistaken ; 
Sir W. Gell must only have referred to his salary, which 
has been due such a time, and is now owing to him." 
'* Very well," I replied, " but you'll see it is not that." 
I took the sum, however, which Siccard put up in paper, 
determining to give it him myself, which I did accordingly, 
on going to the opera. He said, " Do you know I was 
very near returning the sum you gave me ? " " Why ? " 
" Etecause it is not at all what I meant ; I meant to have 
thirty ducats for my coat." I did not answer a single 
word, but I gave it him, and then told Siccard. " Is it 
possible that a gentleman can do such things ? " said he. 
*' Amen," said I, in my own person. 

Abashed and astonished, I own I cannot believe this ; 
I am sure it was false ; and yet there was an air of 
truth in it which terrified me for my friends. How very 
dangerous to be near such scenes I 

To mingle with the bad, and make us run, 
oo near the paths which virtue bids us shun. 



I went to bed confused and doubting, and with that 
uncomfortable impression which the fear of finding out 
human faults. and frailties in those whom we imagined 
good, always unparts. 

Saturday, 15. — I was"made to accompany Her Royal 
Highness to see a house, and we had another scene of 
another kind. The poor little cream-coloured ponies 
are only fit to drive about a park, and they were made 
to scamper up a very steep and slippery road. This 
longing for perpetual change is the longing of a disordered 
mind, which loathes all it possesses. Why seek another 
house when the one Her Royal Highness is now lodged 
in is so delightful ? 

i Mr. R[ ] dined afterwards. During the evening 

he was not, of course, allowed to talk with me, but was 
called to the sofa, and forced to amuse the Princess. He 
was made, for this laudable purpose, to relate a story 
which was most horrid, not fit for the lowest or most 
immoral society.* Lady C. C[ampbell] and Lady 
G[lenbervi]e did not know which way to look, and their 
distress made us all look grave ; which displeased the 
Princess, and her countenance was immediately over- 
spread with a scowl, which is always very painful to 
witness I cannot conceive how a man of any taste or 
feeling could be persuaded, by any royalty, to utter such 
things in the hearing of any woman ; and I doubt if the 
ladies should not have risen and left the room. 

Sunday, 16th April. — I went to church : heard a very 
fine sermon. The text was taken from the Psalms. 
Missed -the verse, and could not find it, but the meaning 
was, that ivL company corrupts good manners. After 

* It may b« said, in nrense for the Princess, that sh« certainly did 
not understand EngUih tbonragbly ; and, in her quest after diversion, 
the enconraged everything which created a laugh, without often 
knowing the real meaning which exdted Lt. [Original note.] 



what had passed the preceding evening, it came htmie 
to me in a most forcible manner. 

I went to see Lady M[ ]. M[ ] told me, seriously, 

that W[ ] B[ J, who is just arrived, would like 

of all things to be one of the Princess's lords of the bed- 
chamber. X thought this was one of the greatest pieces 
of good fortune which ever befell her, and hastened, on 
my retmn home, to communicate the intelligence, con- 
ceiving she would jump at it ; and so she did, only she 

hoped Lord M[ ] might ; in which case she would 

prefer him, because of his having a handle to his name. 
I told Her Royal Highness frankly, that I did not think 
he would. I am certain he would not. In short, if she 
loses this opportunity of seciuiog such a respectable 

attendant as Mr. B[ J, she loses every chance of 

building up again her fallen house. But I did not give 
Her Royal Highness one word of advice, for I know it to 

be useless. Lord Malpas and Mr. B( J dined with her. 

We walked afterwards in the garden, but it was too cold 
and dark to enjoy it. The Princess did not go beyond 
her own terrace. 'Tis evident to see, she is afraid of 
those she ought to despise. 

Dreadful news came from France : the tricoloured 
11^ is said to be flying at Marseilles and Toulon, and 
the poor Due D'Angouleme is beaten — some say he is 
taken. How Heaven has scourged that house t surely 
it ought to be a lesson to princes, to all mankind 
indeed, not to deserve, at least, the wrath of Supreme 

Monday, ijth April, 1815.— Captain Pechell sent the 
Princess word that he was obl^ed to go to Lord W. 
Bentinck, and could not attend Her Royal Highness upon 
her intended water expedition : so she would go by land 
to see the house she had heard of. Captain Pechell came, 
however, saying his business was over aoimer than he 



expected, and he could obey her commands ; tmt th« 
Princess entered the room where we were waiting, in a 
very cros3 humour ; said she would not be made a fool 
of twice in one day ; then waited not fOT the boat, but 
walked down to the quay. She was also displeased at 
the idea of Captain Pechell's firing a salute, and would 
not allow it, so another boat was dispatched back again 
to the Clorinde. to forbid their doing so, and at last we 
set forth. 

The palace we went to see was called ParaJis. It 
certainly commanded a fine view, but had not been 
inhabited for many years, and was so old and so melan- 
choly that I dreaded the thoughts of the Princess having 
it. There was a small house, called Le Petit Paradts, 
more dreadful than the lai^e one, which I saw Her Royal 
Highness thought would be a convenient Trou Madame. 
We walked four miles ; and Her Royal Highness was 
very tired : it blew freshly also, and Lady C. C£ampbell], 
who is a great coward on the water, was nervous, and 
unfortunately said, " Well, Madam, I do for your Royal 
Highness what I would not for any relation. It is a 
sacrifice I would not make for them, to come in an open 
boat in such a wind." She was angry, and said, " Then 
you should never travel, Lady Charlotte." We were 
much amused by the latter pinching me and Dr. H[olland}, 
(between whom her ladjrship was sitting,) from fright. 
I think Lady C. C|;ampbell] is a little smitten with the 
handsome Algernon Percy. She said to me, '* His voice 
and looks are supremely interesting " ; <and she talked to 
him the whole nightir 

Tuesday, iWA of .4^.— Went to see the Institution 
for the Deaf and Diunb, under the direction and tuition of 
Arzarotti. I never was more delighted or instructed. 
Hitherto this divine institution has been carried on by 
gratuitous subscription ' now, the King of Sardinia has 



promised to establish a fund for its support. It consists 
of twelve girls and twelve boys. We only saw the boys : 
beings who by their naturally defective (H'gans seemed 
destined to pass a life in worse than heathen darkness, a 
merely brutal existence, have been by the care and 
ii^enuity of the benevolent and learned Arzarotti brought 
into hfe and light, and are become sensible on the subject 
of their being, here and hereafter. They repUed, by a 
wonderful process, in writing, to various questions which 
were put to them. They were made to find out and 
write the names of all the ladies, and proved beyond a 
doubt that they had not only acquired a certain set of 
ideas, but that their intellectual faculties were as intense 
(if not more so) as those of half the persons who walk 
about the world with all their senses given them in a state 
of perfection. I regret that I did not follow the process 
sufficiently clearly to set it down. I shall go again, and 
give a more distmct account of the manner in which this 
miraculous effect is brought about. 

Lady W. Bentinck set me down at the Palazzo Durazzo. 
There was a large dinner party ; the Bentincks, Col. 
Le Moine, Bourke, and Hosted. The Princess was only 
gracious to the first two of these persons, and was very 
angry with Lady C. C[ampbell], because she talked a good 
deal to Lord W. B[entinc]k. She cannot bear her to 
have any conversation suivie with anybody. I suppose 
it is for fear they should ask questions about herself. 
Her Royal Highness might put entire confidence in Lady 

C[ ^], for she is very trustworthy. I sat up late, 

writing the following verses. It is long since I have felt 
the estro of poetry, or any other pleasurable estro cheer 
my heart, and I welcomed the result, however weak and 
mediocre it might be, with the joy one feels on the return 
of a long and absent friend. 




O gifted mortal, who with hallowed zeal 
Hast taught thiiie own to live in others' weal. 
To thee I pour, in secret fervent lays, 
Spontaneous homage of sincerest praise. 
Whoe'er hath seen thy works of love, nor felt 
That Heaven to thee its purest sjarit dealt ? 
AfBicted Nature feels thy high command. 
And through a mortal's, owns the Almighty hand. 
While warring naticms raise th' embattled host. 
And in the voice of tumult peace is lost. 
Gazing on thee, and thine, we soar above 
This world of strife — to realms of joy and love. 
Whoe'er hath seen and can forget the face 
Pregnant with fire and intellectual grace, 
The eyes upraised, and fixed on Heaven their bent, 
While every muscle worked with high intent 
Of that poor youth who late inertly trod. 
Himself scarce better than the senseless clod ? 
Who can forget, nor own the man divine. 
Who gave that countenance with grace to shine ? 
Th' unconscious objects, who of speech bereft, 
And hearing's senses, have scarce a semblance left 
Of that high origin from whence they sprung, 
Cimmerian darkness round their beings flung. 
By thee are called to life, from hopel^ night. 
To the clear day of intellectual light ; 
From the drear silence of their torpid state 
They wake to be — to feel, in faith elate. 
That when this transitory scene is o'er, 
A life to come will lasting hfe restore. 
Nor they alone shall swell the grateful lays ; 
Their parents' hearts record the note of praise : 
Re-echoing there, it sounds in tender strai:' 
And gives to listening Heaven thy name again. 
Say ! who hath taught them everlasting truth ? 
'Tis thou, blest guide of their unhappy youth I 
Thou, Anarotti I man of meekness, thou. 
Who mak'st the little great, in life, seem low ; 



Thou, who when every sense shall fade away. 
And the great light of this our earthly day 
Dimly shall shine before thy closing eye. 
Unfading brightness wilt b^old from high 
And in the glory of celestial songsj 
Shalt list that heavenly music which belongs 
To those who passing from this earthly sphere, 
In realms of Uving light hosannahs hear ■ 

Wednesday, igth. — ^Wrote and read. Mr. Percy and 
Mr. Wilson called on me. As I fear there is no hope of 

W[ ] B[ ]'s being taken at his word, I sounded 

Mr. W[ ] to find out if he would accept this' place 

about Her Royal Highness, which has gone a-begging 
to be filled up, till I am quite vexed and ashamed of her, 
poor soul 1 to find on how low a footing she has placed 

herself. Mr- W[ ] would like it, but I see he dares 

not, for fear of the B[ ]'s. 

Lady W. Bentinck brought a Comte Somebody, whose 
name I never heard, bat some minister from his Majesty 
the King of Sardinia. The Princess thought she did 
wonders for Murat, by talking politics to him the whole 

We had Mr. «[ ] and M. D'[ ]a to dinner. I 

cannot conceive why Her Royal Highness invites the 
latter little sneaking fellow, who is a decided enemy to 
her, and a spy, set over her by the Prince. I was very 
glad that her dress, conversation, and manners, happened 
by some lucky chance to be all perfectly proper ; so that 

unless Monsieur D'[ ]a told lies, he could not say 

anything was improper. 

Passed this evening at the Palazro Duraxzo. If the 
Princess were ten times more foolish and ill-conducted 
than she is, I should still wish her well and try to uphold 
her : for any one so persecuted should be protected. Let 
England try her. If she be found unworthy of her station, 
let her be turned out of it at once, and her name never 



mentioned again ; but it she is not, let her live in peace. 
This the frince will not permit. There is a vindictiveness 
in his character which makes it quite odious. 

Thmsday, 2(rfA. — I went with the Princess rumbling 
about nine miles out of town, to see a deserved palace in 
a village ; a melancholy cut-thfoat-looking place, where 
we shall all die of the pip, and Her Royal Highness too. 
That is my only hope of escape, for she seems at present 
to fancy removing there. 

Lord Malpas, Mr. W.*Bt ], Mr. Percy, and Mr. 

Wilson, dined at the P^azzo Durazzo. The Princess 
pretends to think Mr. Percy very ugly : that is, because 
he is precisely otherwise. I wonder how he likes courtly 
favour. She told some excellent stories, but then, as 
usual, she degenerated into all sorts of idle talking, and 
she encourages laughing at the expense of propriety and 
delicacy. We went to the Opera late. For the first 
time the music was indifferent. 

It is reported that Bonaparte is lev3nng a great force 
to conquer Italy. There is better news once more from 
Toulon and Marseilles : they ^e said to be hoisting the 
white flag again, and the Due D'Angouleme is supposed 
not to be taken, but, on the contrary, to be at the bead 
of an army. 

Friday, aist. — ^Two Monsieur Durazzos — a little and a 
big — both equally disagreeable in appearance ; Lady 
Dfdrymple, Lord and Lady W. Bentinck, Lord and Lady 
Gtenbervie, dined at the Princess's. The storm in her 
temper, which has lasted nearly three days, and which 
was on Monday at its height, has subsided. I am really 
anxious about Madame Davidoff, who I fear must have 
been a prisoner in some bad inn ; that is the best thing 
to hope for her. I read Montaigne and Metastasio. 
Captain Thompson, of the Aboukir, called on roe : h« 



is an agreeable person. I went to a ball at a Gimtesse 
[ '\, and was rather bored till I talked to Lord M[ ]. 

Saturday. — ^The Princess drove out to the dreaded 
house at Nevin. Thank my stars she did not take me, 
but was accompanied by Madame Dumont and William. 
Monsieur De Negri called ; I walked out with him. Went 
to the Doria Palace, to view the grand remains of that 
magnificent man's magnificent ideas. The gardens 
descend to the sea, from whence he could embark or 
disembark in^his galleys. A superb fountain in marble, 
around which sit eagles as large as life, ornaments the 
middle of what has been a noble formal parterre. It is 
loaded with decoration, and not in classical taste ; but 
it is grand, and the marine horses are spirited. Above 
the palace, which is of vast extent, rise other gardens. 
A colossal statue, seen from afar, stands in these gardens, 
like a gigantic genius lamenting the fallen greatness of 
the repubUc of Genoa. All here is on a vast scale. 

The Princess dined at five o'clock, because she expected 
the Ex-Queen of Etniria at an early hour in the evening. 
Her Majesty is the Queen of Spain's daughter, ci-devant 
Arch Duchess of Parma. She is a womiin of low, heavy 
form, which appears still more so, because her legs, if 
legs she has, are so short, that she is like a walking torso. 
1 never knew before why it was high treason to say a 
Queen of Spain had legs. Her face is sensible, though 
ugly. She only passed through the apartment where 
we were, to the Princess's room, her son and daughter 
following. The son is a beautiful boy — which is very odd. 
The two ladies-in-waiting are two monsters to look at. 
The Comte Guicciardini, a descendant of the Florentine 
historians of that name, is a well-looking, fattish, blackish 
man, speaking horrid French. This Queenly visit, for 
which we were all dressed to the utmost, lasted about 
three quarters of aD hour. The boy and giii — I b^ 



their pardon — Prince and Princess, sat with them, and 
the four royalties passed out as they had passed in, and 
so ended that farce. 

I went on Sunday, with Lady Glenbervie, to see an 
institution which has conunenced, and is still supported, 
chiefly at the expense of the Fieschi family. It consists 
of a hundred and thirty poor women, who support their 
community by various works. We only saw, of their 
performances, artiflcial flowers ; but if they sell all their 
works as dear, no wonder they live so well. I never saw 
anything better kept or arranged than their abode. No 
English charitable Institution, that I ever saw, was more 
clean or comfortable in its arrangements. 

The Princess had at dinner Madame Morando, Lord 
Malpas, W. Buirell, Lord Strathaven, W. Palmeda, the 
English Vice-Consul ; but it was a gloomy, dull affair. 

Friday, 28tt. — I have had nothing to write worth 
keeping a note of, for a week past ; all has been tolerably 
smooth. To-day I took a delightful walk into the 
cotmtry, among green hills, that put me in mind of 

D [ ] and its neighboiu-hood. To my surprise. Lady 

W, Bcntinck, who I thought was at Milan, called on 
the Princess. They met a courier from England, which 
made them turn back hither. This courier brought news 
which makes everybody sorry. Lord William is recalled. 
No troops are to remain in Italy, except in garrison 
towns ; and Lord William is considered as of too high 
rank to remain here, when we have so small a force. 
There is also a rumour that we are to make peace with 
Bonaparte ! Lady William and her husband have paid the 
Princess great and kind attentions. They are excellent 
people, beloved wherever they go ; and I wish Her Royal 
Highness valued their countenance and support as highly 
as it deserves ; but she is so foolish, so regardless of what 
is of vital C(msequence to her interests, that it is pitiable. 



Lord and Lady Glenbervie dined here to-day, but they 
were not coaxed as usual. She was (I mean the Princess) 
in a dreadful humour. Monsieur De La Rue sat by ha. 
After dinner. Her Royal Highness went to return the 
Queen of Etnuia's visit. The little crownless King came 
down a hundred stairs, I believe, to meet our Royal Lady. 
Up they went again ; eind, as usual, passed into an empty 
room, where they sat by themselves. I found out that 
one of her Ex-Majesty's ladies is not so ugly. She is 
married to the Chamberlain Guicciardini, and is his 
sister-in-law. After endeavouring to talk Italian, and 
their paying me compliments npon the same, (the reasiHi, 
I suppose, of my change of opinion,) back we came again 
home, the pretty little King handing the Princess down 
stairs as he had done up. 

I was called by Her Royal Highness into her secret 
chamber, where there was a fire, though the thermometer 
was at eighty ; but she makes cosmetics and dirt pies, 
and there were various pots and pans boiling. What a 
droll amusement ! au rests, the apartment was comfort- 
able enough ; filled with all sorts of things, the oddest 
mixture of finery and trash, which, by the way, all royalties 
are apt to like. Now a bit of cut-out paper ; now a gem ; 
now a papier machi box ; now one of jasper ; such is 
usually the decoration of their tables and cabinets. She 
showed me all her bonny dies. I was in a better temper, 
but not right. Though it was eleven when she dismissed 
me, I could not resist going to Lord William Bentinck, 
to hear Major Andrftossi, who sang like an angel. I nev« 
heard anything sung so well, not even by the chanticleer, 
in point of taste. He is besides a handsome man, higfalp 
considered by Lord William Bentinck, and reck(»ied an 
excellent officer. I heard every word he [u-onounced, 
and he sang with so much feeling and so much nature, 
that I have had him in my head all night. What a 
ridiculous way of ex{»'easing myself I Shame en such 



slip-slop language t I ought rather, to say, the sound of 
Major Andrfeossi's voice is still in my ears, and his senti- 
ment and feeling touched my heart, and have left an 
impression on it which, I think, will never be utterly lost. 
I would ask leave to introduce him to the Princess ; his 
presence in her circle would be a great charm ; but I am 
so afraid of ever making any one known to her, for a 
thousand reasons. 

Saturday, 2(jth. — ^To-day I received the following from 
my friend, K. Craven. 

Dated Naples. 

Dear [ 1, — Having at length a chance of sending you a 

letter safely, I will not let it escape, and must express my 
satisfaction at bearing that you were with Her Royal Highness 
it Genoa. I shall not attempt to describe the strange scenes 
we have witnessed here, and which have not ceased — ^the 
downfall of an usurped dynasty, and the restoration of a 
Intimate one. Still less shall I venture to decide under 
which of these the country is most likely to prosper, or its 
natives are to be happy. I always augured ill of the laie 
King's imprudent eruption with Italy, but did not foresee 
the business would be so speedily concluded. His Queen, 
whose behaviour has gained her universal applause, I may 
say, admiration, sailed this morning for Trieste, which sl^ 
hi^ chosen in preference to England. Our Port is full of 
English men-of-war and transports, and the town of Austrian 
troops, whose presence contributes not a little to the public 
tranquillity, which, however, has been chiefly maintained by 
the civic guard, v^o have distinguished themselves by pre- 
venting the pillage of the palace and most of the nobility's 
houses, and saved many fortunes and lives. Of the latter, 
however, a considerable number have been sacrificed, in 
repressing the criminal endeavours of a set of beings that 
scarcely deserve the name of human. • 

On Sunday last, the day that the Queen went on board, 
and before the Austrian troops came in, the danger was at 
its utmost point ; and I can assure you that ws pa^ed several 
very anidusant hours, both in the day and night. Since 



that, it has been on the decline, and I trust will continue so 
until the King's entiy, which may, perhaps, afford scane 
opportunity for a renewal of irregiilarities ; but I believe 
all precautions will be taken that human foresight can devise. 
He (Ferdinand) is expected about Sunday next, and cannot 
well arrive before, as the ship that is to cany him from Messina 
only went from hence the day before yesterday. His son, 
Prince Leopold, entered with the Austrian army, and gives 
universal satisfaction to the apostates, or penitents, whicb- 
ever you may please to call them ; in whidi number almost 
all the first famiUes are included. The army is annihilated, 
and without much actual loss in battle, as it is estimated it 
never amounted to above three thousand men ; but the 
moment the first defeat uras suffered within the frmtiefs, 
want of provisions, desertion, private quarrels, jealousy 
among the chiefs, want of confid^ce in the leaders, and aU 
the other evils that can disoigardze an army, spread than- 
selves through this one, and soon put an end to it, leaving a 
few generals only, to make a capitulation. You may. perhaps, 
know that previously to this the Queen had signed a con- 
vention with Captain Campbell of the Tremendous, giving 
him up the men-of-war, all the stores, and putting hetself 
under British protection. The King returned, and staid one 
day, during which a new and liberal constitution was pn>- 
clamed, which ended this tragedy something in the manner 
of a farce ; and in the following night he made his escape, 
no one knows exactly how. And now you have a pretty 
correct outline of the whole transaction. The country is in 
a state which I fear it will be difficult to retrieve it front : 
the provinces without any administration ; the inhabitants 
refu^ng to pay taxes, and even rents ; some towns in Calabria 
themselves independent ; free corps of vagabonds and dis- 
banded soldiers roving about in all drections. The very 
vicinity of the capital is so infested with these men, that it 
is dangerous to take a drive a mileout of it. All this in the 
midst of the most lovely climate and the most beautiful of 
countries ; Vesuvius majestically smoking above it all, and 
PuUcinello continuing his facetious career with undiminisbed 
perseverance and activity. 

For my part, I am as I was when her Roysl Highness left 
this, still waiting a sunamons from my mother, which I have 



now a possibility of obeying, as the commanication will be 
open either by sea or by land ; though I fear the latter may 
be attended with inconvenience, if not peril. I wrote to you 
and Dr. Holland about a. month since, and Knutson engaged 
to get the letters conveyed : you are the best judge whether 
he succeeded or not. He is still here, with all the Ei^lisb 
I then mentioned ; and as they were all so bent upon going 
away, when it was not possible to do so, I imagine they will 
all stay, now that there are no difficulties about going. Lady 
Elizabeth sailed about a fortnight since, and, I trust, is by 
ibis time safely landed in France. Gell and I made a short 
excursion to Ischia, which reminded us so much of the Grecian 
Islands, that we think of going again ; and the Bedfords and 
Lady Westmoreland talk of doing the same. I am very well, 
but poor Cell's gout attacks him so frequently, that I am 
really seriously armoyed, though not alarmed, by it. It is a 
fact, that without any regular fit, he is generally three 
days in each week without being able to walk at all. Lady 
Burgbersh arrived yesterday, and they inhabit the bouse 
her Royal Highness had. Ours is the delight of our existence, 
being the most comfortable, quiet, and gay residence I ever 
was in, and the envy and admiration of all visitors. We 
generally have a tea party every evening. We have just 
been embellishing our terrace with a treillage of cane-work, 
and have millions of flowers both there and in our garden. 
The Oxfords are going, but I know not where, and I fancy 
in that respect they are not wiser than myself. I shall now 
take my leave, only adding, that a few lines from you, ad- 
dressed to the care of Monsieur Falconnet, banker, will very 
mifch oblige 

Your sincere friend, 


— I went to see Madame Davidoff, who had arrived 
the day before : she bad very narrowly escaped being 
drowned. I was quite happy to see her again. I walked 
with her to Lady W. Bentiiick's, and to Lady Sandwich's 
and Glenbetvie's, where I left her. 

On my return to the Palazzo, the Princess sent for me, 
I found Her Royal Highness sitting with Monsieur De 



Negri, in her dressing-nwin (though called such, there was 
no appearance even of a toilet ; her real dressing-room 
was separated from this apartment by an ante-chamber). 
He is in high favour : she was showing off all her wit to 
him. I found out afterwards it was because he was a 
Milanese, or had Milanese possessions. Why that should 
affect her, I know not. She has decided to give a great 
ball on Monday, which allows nobody time to get their 
clothes made. All are to be asked who do leave, or who 
have left, their name for her. The Princess did not come 
down to dinner, having a head-ache. Lord and Lady 
Glenbervie, and Dr. Holland, and m3^elf, had a very 
merry dinner. Afterwards we wrote all the invitations ; 
then were called to the royal presence, and kept up very 
late : voild Us plaisirs de cette Cour. 

Sunday, 14th May, six o^clock in the morning, Genoa ; 
in bed. Scoglietto Palazzo Durazzo. — A fortnight has 
passed withou my writing, and this fortnight has been 
the most busy time. It is ever so. What is most worth 
remembering we are no longer calm enough to profit by. 
During this fortnight the Pope came to the Princess — a 
circumstance so singular that it became quite interesting. 
Her Royal Highness received him on the steps of her 
palace, and, after he had sat with her for about half an 
hour, during which Lady Glenbervie and Lady C. Camp- 
bell had time to fall in love with the almoner, the good old 
Pontiff went away, blessing all whom he passed. The 
scullions and cool^ came out in a crowd to kiss his toe, 
which they did most audibly. The Princess followed the 
Pope down stairs ; and when he descended the grass 
plots to his carriage, and was told she was still there, his 
Holiness turned and made the most graceful bow I ever 
saw. His coimtenance is so fine, and his figure so vener- 
able, I felt quite a Catholic ; or rather, I felt the respect 
due to respectable age. 



In this short space of time I have laid up remem- 
brances without regrets, except that the fortnight is past. 
I went twice again to the Brignole Palace, and to the 
Pope's present residence, which is truly magnificent ; — 
corridors, gardens, marble terraces, from whence there are 
fine views of the sea — and everything that grandeur can 
give to make locality superb ; not the petty grandeur of 
silks and satins, although that exists also in the interior, 
but the really sublime circumstances of all that constitutes 
greatness. The picture I admired most in this palace was 
the Death of Seneca, by Lucca Giordano. Its opposite 
neighbour, the Gorgon's head, I did not at all admire. 
The Adoration, by Lucca Doranda, one of the early 
painters, is more curious than gratifying. Judith with 
Holofemes' bead, by Weilings, has too much indiflerence 
in the female countenance. There is another of the same 
subject in the palace where the king of Sardinia is lodged 
— a much finer picture. Cupid bending his Bow, by 
Annibal Carracci, a copy from Corr^gio, is an odd concep- 
tion ; for the Cupid is so very serious he must meditate 
some deep and lasting wound, there being nothing playful 
in his mien. Rembrandt's portrait by himself is a fine 
picture ; but he is always so much the same, there is so 
much method and trick in his greatness, that it almost 
ceases to be greatness. A head of our Saviour, by Carlo 
Dolce, is one of the most beautiful and melancholy 
pictures I ever saw. It makes one's blood run cold. 
What must the painter not have felt who represented 
that sacred head in such a state of suffering ? The 
Madonna, its companion, is not equal to it. There is a 
grand composition by Tintoretto ; but the representation 
of the Almighty is always offensive and almost impious. 
" Ejre hath never seen him." 

AJiother day I went to the Albtrghi Am Poveri, where 
one thousand three hundred and nineteen poor are sup* 
ported in peace and plenty. It is a glorious establishment. 



There is a small bas-relief of Christ and the Madoiwa, 
by Michael AngelQ, over the gateway of this hospitaL 
The head of the Saviour is beautiful. There is a yellow 
tint in the marble which is truly like the marble of death. 
The Vii^m is not so striking ; but still there is a world of 
sweetness in the sorrowful smile with which she gazes on 
the Saviour. 

One day the Princess of Wales went to visit the King of 
Sardinia, who had come sneaking here in the dark one 
night, because he could not help himself ; and while the 
royalties were t<^ether, I looked at some of the pictures. 
The Judith, which I mentioned before as being much 
finer than either of the pictures of the same subject at the 
Brignole and Durazzo palaces, is a grand work of art. 
There is an air of hurried motion in Judith's figure, as 
though she said, " If it were done, 'twere best 'twere 
done quickly " ; an appearance of terror, lest she should 
not be able to hold the head, makes one better able to 
endture the subject. Joseph's bloody garment displayed 
to his father, was also a good specimen of the master ; 
and a Vit^gin in grief, by Carlo Maratti (though I think 
him in general an indifierent artist) is a very touching 
composition ; her grief is so deep, so resigned. The 
tremulous motion (if I may be allowed the term) in the 
lip — ^the pallid colours that appear to float through the 
stein — the redness of the eyes — above all, the languor 
which pervades the whole, struck me forcibly, and render 
it a most superior production. I could have gazed for 
hours at it. One only circumstance lessened its beauty 
— its indefinite size — being neither large enough for 
life, nor small enough for miniature. The companion 
picture, Herodias with John the Baptist's head, had 
the same fault ; bat it is a minor fault after all ; and 
the latter is wondrous in another way. The deep tone 
of ^ the colouring, its fleshy roundness and force, 
demand sovereign admiration ; but it does not excite 



the tender interest which makes one long to wipe the 
tears and console the sufferer, as in the case of his 
weeping Virgin. 

Aiid now I must end about pictures, and palaces, and 
transcendant Genoa, to be engaged in all the hurry and 
bustle of an immediate departure. The Princess hears 
that the oaths of homage are to take place at Milan sooner 
than was expected, and Her Royal Highness set off at 
three or four this morning, to go thither as fast as horses 
could carry her ; to fly from herself, and seek in pleasure 
that happiness which exists in the soul's peace and 
content. I went to bid Madame Davidofi good bjre, and 
did so with regret, which was not diminished on hear- 
ing from Miss E^terly, that General Davidoff is now 
attached to another woman, an unmanied person, a 
Princess Byron ; * that she hves in the Empress's family, 
and is protected by her Imperial Majesty. 

The general has flown in the face of the whole imperial 
family, and has sued for a divorce from his wife, having 
presented a petition to the Emperor to this effect. Miss 
Esteriy said, that often for months tc^ether. General 
Davidoff would not look at his own children ; that be 
hated them ; that his poor wife has been at his feet with 
all his children, to conjure him not to be divorced from 
her. She has such a sentiment of deep religion, that she 
conceives it to be breaking a sacrament, according to her 
doctrine, of the Greek church ; and, in short, her leaving 
her country was all in order to get him away from the 
object of his fatal passion. In vain ! Now, Miss Esteriy 
says, she is waiting for every post to bring her news of 
his having quitted her for ever, and that her situation 
is truly deplorable. This is a melancholy history, and I 
could not leave Madame Davidoff without a hvely sym- 
pathy for her sorrows ; they are so true, so noble, that 
they excite compassion without any blame being attached 
* ProtMbly of the family of Biron d« Conilaiide. 



to the sufferer, as is the case, alas ! too often ; for instance, 
in the unhappy Princess of Wales. 

The Princess returned in two or three dajn, and once 
again she paid a visit to Monsieur de Begnis' delicious 
garden. How sad to look at scenes of wondrous beauty 
for the last time I To look at any object for the last time 
which has afforded us interest, is always painful, but at 
such transcendant loveliness, at such a scene, where 
fancy has once more floated in spheres of pleasure, it is 
doubly mournful. Above all, when the locale is associated 
with an individual — when a dear voice has echoed in that 
spot — a beloved footstep been listened to as it advanced 
to the place of rendezvous — there, where friendship and 
love have held sweet converse together, making a tem- 
porary paradise, into which the spite and malice and sin of 
the Evil One have entered not ; — then It is indeed a bitter 
parting. I looked at this garden with infinite tenderness. 
I bade its soil be fruitful ; I bade its flowers bloom in 
undiminished luxuriance ; I bade the sun to shine on it, 
and the flowers to refresh it. All this looks very foolish 
on paper — what piece of sentiment does not ? but so long 
as a third eye does not glance over the words, it matters 
not ; and I would fain keep a record of these feelings. 

I dined at Lord Wilham Bentinck's ; sat next Mr. 
Andrews, a pleasant man. Lady Barbara and Mr. 
Ponsonby, Mr. Milner, Mr. Catanelli, were the party. 
Mr. Catanelli has a remarkably sensible, ^reeable face, 
and I am told is very superior in all things. 

Walked to the Palazzo Durazzo, breathing the odour of 
orange flowers, and loitered late on the lovely terrace. 

Rose at daybreak to see Her Royal Highness depart. 
I have a foolish dislike to saying good-bye to any one, 
and I never felt sadder presentiments than when I bade 
the poor Princess farewell. I could not follow Her Royal 
Highness. I did not wish to do so ; but when we part 
from persons who have shown us individual kindness, be 



their faults what they may, we remember only that they 
were good to ourselves, and the pang at sajdng farewell, 
and the throj of one's heart as one exclaims a grateful 
and a hearty " God bless 3rou 1 '* is a very keen anguish. 
A few hours after, I also left the Palazzo Durazzo. 
And now farewell Genoa, but not farewell the memory of 
thy enchantments I 


CrVErt BIE BY LADY [ ■]. 

I thought the dreaming hour was gone — 

That sad reality alone 

Had traced an arid path, whence I 

Life's furthest verge could plain descry ; 

But I have trod on fairy ground. 

Where sweet illusion scattered round 

Fresh flowers, to make me lose awhile 

The sense of fortune's frown or smite. 

Then let me gaze, and gaze again 

On scenes whose power to banish pain 

Have come with such a gentle force, 

I cannot trace their unseen source ; 

But which, in memory's tablet placed. 

Will ne'er by others be effaced. 

Can I forget thy crescent bay, 

" Thy palace pride " — thy gardens gay, 

Whose hanging terraces invite 

To climb the sweet luxurious height ? 

Can I foiget thy silver sea 

Whose circhng zone of majesty 

So sweetly clasps its " city bride," 

As if it had not love beside ? 

Can I foi^et ? perhaps — alas I 

For memory fades and objects pass ; 

But deep impressions of deUgbt . 

Remain, when these shall fade in night. 

Transcendent Genoa I can I leave 

Thy wondrous beauty — and not grieve 7 



The vague enchantments, visions rare. 
Which hover in thy magic air ; 
The quiet walk — the blaze of noon — 
The balm of twilight — night's calm moon 
These stamp their glories on the soul. 
And scorn of time to own controuL 
Transcendent Genoa 1 talce the tear 
Which, trembling, starts unbidden here. 
For soon thy magic will be gone. 
Thy beauty and thy influence Sown. 
To-morrow's sun once more for me 
Will light thy splendid imagery, 
And then — Farewell — ah t ance for ever, 
'Twere better I had seen thee never. 



SIMPLON.— In the midst of clouds, and rain, 
and cold, on the top of the Alps ; a good fire 
my only consolation. Here I am, out of the 
r^on of sunshine and pleasure, transported 
once more to all the tnorale and' all the physique 
of a cold climate, and the dull duties of conmion existence. 
Heavens ! what a contrast ! I passed a winged fortn^ht 
at Milan. To go over it day by day, I cannot — to pass it by 
in silence, impossible. Arrived at Milan, Monday night, 
the 15th, about nine o'clock. The Princess of Wales 
knew I was to arrive, and sent for me to the Opera, 
whither she was gone, without any Enghsh attendants 
whatever. I was too much concerned for her not to obey 
her summons, and therefore drove to the Gran Teatro 
Delia Scata. I arrived as the performance ended, and had 
only time to make my bow as the Marquis de Ghisiheri 
was handing Her Royal Highness into her carriage. 
With her unvarying kindness to me, she had the com- 
plaisance to return into the theatre, that I might have 
a coup ^eal of it in all its glory. It was the finest building 
of the kind I ever saw ; and being lit up for the Archduke 
of Austria, it had an imposing effect. StiU, the illumina- 
tion was partial ; for though the lustres on the outside of 
the boxes were lit upon that occasion, the back parts of 
them were in shade. 

I was sorry to observe that the Princess had no lady in 



attendance upon her ; but the Marquis GhisUieri, who is 
a man of high rank and charming manners, was all respect 
and attention to her. Some persons made a bad joke, 
and said his being at the head of the police, was an addi- 
tional circumstance in favour of his being an aitachi to 
Her Royal Highness's court. 

Everybody has heard of, and so many have seen, the 
cathedral at Milan, that it may seem unnecessary to dwell 
upon it ; yet one word I must write, not by way of regular 
or historical description, but merely to please myself, by 
living over again, as it were, my first visit to that beauti- 
ful shrine. The dignity of its structure, and the rich, 
yet quiet, beauty of its white marble walls and gothic 
pinnacles, are more in accordance with my feelings of a 
place of worship than the painted roofs and inlaid altars 
of the churches of Genoa, I walked repeatedly round the 
beautiful screen which circles the high altar. A thousand 
brilliant rays of coloured light darted through the painted 
windows, and danced over the pavement, giving aiuma- 
tion to the statues, which appeared, to a fanciful view, 
as if just starting into life. I sat down on a bench to 
contemplate the scene, and tried to define the sentiments 
to which it gave birth : in vain. So I sufiered myself 
to look and to enjoy — to shut out the past and the future 
— and was satisfied — to be. I gazed delightfully on one 
of those fortunate accidents of light which fell on two of 
the statues. The illusion was magical ; it produced that 
once-to-be-seen effect which, like some happy circum- 
stance in life, illumines certain spots of existence with 
colours too vivid and too etherial to last. The same 
thing never returns. 

I proceeded to ascend the highest pinnacle of the cathe- 
dral, and was well repaid for the trouble ; fot although 
these inapfe monde views are not the most beautiful, it is 
gratifying to embrace a vast expanse of coimtry at one 
view. There is a latent sense of imaginary power in 



standing on an elevation, which is undoubtedly gratify- 
ing. Amid the most elaborate and beautifully-executed 
tracery of gothic ornament, spire, and foliage, and scroll 
innumerable, covered by statues, and glistering white in 
the unclouded atmosphere, I looked over the rich plain of 
Lombardy, far as the eye can reach. It is bounded only 
towards the north by the vast chain of Alps, whose 
romantic outline forms a barrier which might well seem 
impregnable, and yet has not protected the beautiful 
Italy, which it vainly encircles. As the eye wandered 
over the most luxuriant plain, the scene of so many wars, 
so many disputes, who could forbear wishing that the 
nature of mankind were less selfish, and that instead of 
monopolizing the possessions of others, each nation and 
people would rejoice in the prosperity of each other ? But 
the world must be regenerated before this can take place. 
I quitted the cathedral of Milan with regret. I have 
seen it since often, but it has never been the same 
cathedral to me. 

Extract of a Letter from Milan. 
The Archduke is here receiving the oaths of homage, and 
all Milan is in a state of festivity and confusion ; balls, mas- 
querades, &c. &c. The Princess is received in great state, 
and applauded wherever she appears. The first night of 
my arrival. Her Royal Highness went to the theatre ; the 
second, to a great court ball, which was certainly the most 
magnificent f£te I ever beheld. The vastaess and solid 
splendour of the apartments reminded me of the entertain- 
ments described in the Arabian Vghts. The Grand Duke 
met the Princess at the door of the saloon, and walked round 
the endless suite of rooms with Her Royal Highness, followed 
by their respective attendants. Some gentlemen, as well 
as ladies, are appointed to form part of her cortige wherever 
she goes ; and there is a proper court etiquette observed 
towards her, which must be gratifyii^ to her, or ought toVbe. 
Yesterday afternoon there were games in the amphitheatre 
built by Bonaparte. The immensity and beauty of the 



tmilding are very strikmg. It can contain, it b said, thirty- 
five thousand persons, and in its arena are perfoimed various 
games, after the manner of the ancients — chariot races, 
foot races, &c. In two hours' time it can be filled five feet 
deep with water, for Naumachian games ; but on this occa- 
sion, chariots, men, and horses were the amusements of the 
hour. The spectators sat in the amphitheatre, with umbrellas 
only to shade them from the sun : but the Grand Duke and 
the Princess sat on two state chairs, under a magnificent 
pavilion, su^qwrted by pillars of the Corinthian order, (stolen, 
by-the-by, from some church,) and the Mar&:hal BeUegaide, 
and all the Austrian court, attending upon the royalties. 
The Duchess of Visconti and some other lady waited upon 
the Princess of Wales. Every person in this vast assemblage 
was dressed in the most splendid array. Flowers, feathers, 
diamonds, glittered and waved around. Twenty-five thou- 
sand persons and upwards were said to be present. Certainly 
every part of the vast building was filled with spectators, 
and yet you might have heard a pin falL The graceful 
outline of the ov^ structure, as wide, but not nearly so high, 
as the amphitheatres of the andents — the Alps rising in yet 
more glorious amphitheatre than any formed by mortal 
hand, in the background — completed this extraordinary and 
indescribable f^te. 

Letter from Keppel Craven. 

I cannot let [ Js letter depart without adding a few 

words to you ; not to apologize for not answering your two 
last, which I received some time ago, but to give you some 
account of your friends in this part of the world, who are 
not few in number ; as, besides our two selves, there are 
E, F. Knutson, Lady Westmoreland, Irvine, &c, and I 
dare say many others. I wish jfou were of the party, as, 
in point of Enghsh, we are mudi better provided for than 
during the winter ; and in every other respect this place 
is to me perfection, and I don't know how I shall ever tear 
myself from it. I expect, however, so to do, by a summons 
from my mother, unless she comes to Italy, which her last 
letter indicated a wish to do : but I have been somewhat 
uneasy about her, as she was at Marseilles, which, in conse- 



quence of the Due D'Angoul^e's presence, held out the 
longest in favour of the Bourbons. 

;. llie English that are here are very uncertain what steps 
to;-take ; and I fancy many would have taken fli^t some 
time since, had not the fear of banditti been stronger than 
any other ; and indeed poor Irvine • will, I hope, write you 
an account of bis adventure with them, which will interest 
you much, but which must have been as unpleasant a [»ece 
of romance as ever befell a poor traveller : but you will be 
happy to hear that the said banditti wore green velvet jackets, 
with a power of gold buttons — and white bats looped up 
with ribbons innumerable. 

Elizabeth, who sends her kind regards to you, is going 
to set off for Paris with a certain Countess Waleska [sic — 
Walewska], of whom Her Royal Highness will give you an 
account ; and with her I consider her quite safe. From 
France she will probably go to England. 

Gell and I have the most comfortable and, we think, the 
prettiest apartment in the whole town, which is the admira- 
tion of all our countrymen. We give them tea every evening, 
at any botu: from eight till eleven — as, if we are not at home, 
the tea-pot is : and we generally have very good company, 
headed by Ward, who is in a kind of honey mood, which renders 
him an universal, and I must add, unexpected favourite. 

The beauty of the coimtry just now is not to be described 
by pen ; but I hope peace will enable you to judge of it 
next year, for I never mean to leave it again, except perhaps 
for a short time, if I am able, &c. &c. 

Yours most sincerely and affectionately, 

K. C 

Holland Hocsb, Dee. 6(A. 

My dear [ ], — When we have once determined on 

taking an important step, we are glad of the suffrage even 
of an indgcificant person in favour of it ; and though I am 
afraid that you have known me too long and too well to have 
much confidence in my judgment, on the other band, you 
must by this time be too thoroughly persuaded of the warm 

* Mr. Irvine was one of many penom who were att^ked by tt>e 
banditti between Rome and Naples. He escaped with his life, bat 
not without being severely wounded. [Original note.] 



and sincere interest which I take in your welfare, to donbt 
that if I rejoice at your having tak^n any particular step, 
it can only be from my believing that it is iikely to contribute 
to your benefit and pleasure. I therefore take the hberty of 

telling you that I am very glad of your accepting [ ]. I 

have lately seen a good deal of your future mistress, and am 
persuaded of her possessing many estimable qualities. She 
is extremely good-humoured and obliging, and seems very 
much attached to the persons in whose favour she conceives 
a prepossession. She is by no means exigeanie ; at tiie 
same time, no httle attention is lost upon her. She seems 
grateful for the slightest indication of good-will towards 
her, (probably, poor soul I the ill treatment which she has 
at times received since her arrival in this country has made 
such doubly acceptable to her,) and she is generous ; indeed 
I may say profuse, in her manner of returning it. She reads 
a great deal, and buys all new books ; is very fond of music, 
and the play ; has boxes at the Opera and both the theatres, 
which Her Royal Highness attends frequently. She has 
concerts often at the palace, witlt the best performers ; is 
fond of having persons of distinction at her table, either iot 
rank or for political and literary merits ; and I need not 
tell you, that her ladies are all most agreeable persons. Lady 
Glenbervie and Lady C. Lindsay are pHillantes d'esprU, and 

Lady [ ] will please you infinitely. * * * I know you well 

enough to assert, upon my own authority, that the above 
is exactly the sort of society which you would have chosen 
for yourself. The g/ne of a court attendance will be less 
felt by you than by almost any body else ; as I know few 
people who have been more in the habit of sacrificing their 
own inchnations to those of the persons with whom they 
were living ; and the Princess, by her manner of speaking 
of you, seems prepared to hke every thing you say and do. 
To be sure, I endeavoured to dear up her ideas on this 
subject, but I cannot say with much success ; she seems 
most obstinately prejudiced in your favour. Into the bar- 
gain, I confess it wHl give me great pleasure to see you placad 
in your proper sphere,* and occupying a situation in which 
* What a mistake Mr. Lewis made in wishing bis friend such joy 
at the appointment about the Princess of Wales I for thoogh what 
he said of Her Royal Highness's society at fJtai time was true, and 



you cannot fail to appear to so much advantage. Her Royal 
Highness has for some time past been so kind to me, that 
gratitude for her attentions must necessarily render me a 
partial judge : but even, making all possible allowance, J 
cannot help flattering myself that you will have reason to 
be satisfied with your new situation. 

There is no news of any kind. Mr. R. Walpole has oeen 
tapped for the dropsy, and is considered as bung in a very 
dfmgerous state. 

Ever yours, 

M. G. Lewis 

Letter from Hbr RoYAt Highness the Pbincess 

OF Wales to [ }.* 

Dear [ — '—], — I resume my pen again. By the franc 
which you received on Tuesday, you have seen that Lord 
Byron was of the party on Sunday ; and he was really the 
hero of the party, for he was in very high spirits, free Uke a 
bird in the air, having just got rid of his chains. He intended 
still to go abroad, but where, how and with whom, he is 
quite unsettled in bis mind about it. I am sorry to mention, 
that his last poem upon " The Decadence of Bonaparte," is 
worthy neither his pen noi bis muse. So much about him. 
We sat down seventeen, and the dinner was as merry as any 
party of the sort could go off. Everybody was determined 
to be good-humoured and witty. Even old Boningdon did 
" son petit possible." After we had left the gentlemene 
and we ladies sat round the iire, equal in number to the nine 
Muses, a German flute-player, of the name of Foust, came 
to assume the place of the demigod Pan. He worked much 
upon the feelings of Lady Anne, who was quite enraptured. 

that it was a very agreeable one. it wa* no feal/ur in any bodyt cup 
to have been in that unfortunate lady's service. On the contrary, 
so vindictive are all members of the R — F — in their feelings towards 
her even to this day, that nothing would induce them to have any 
person in their honsebolds who had ever been about the Princess. 
No worldling ever served Hei Royal Highness ; and even those who 
were personally attached to her, and felt her wrongs, were at last 
comp^ed, one by one, to leave her service. [Original note.] 

• The following letters really belong to an earlier part of the book, 
but are placed here — an instance of the haste and carelessness with 
which It was put tt^ether. 



She went' close to the sounds of his flute, looking strangely 
into bis face,>^as if looking bim through and through. Up(Hi 
the other virgin's heart. Miss Hayman,* he also had much 
effect. She took out her pair of spectacles, and went to the 
}»anoforte to accompany this bewitching flute. Lady Anne 
acted the pantomime the whole time the music continued. 
I could admire neither the one_nor the other- This heathen 
god is deaf upon one ear, which occasioned him to produce 
a great many false notes, and I was too happy when released 
from this cacaphonie. 

On Monday, as I mentioned to you, I had a little children's 
ball in honour of my nephews, little Princes Charles and 
WiUiam-t Twenty couple never were better fitted fm- 
dancing, for beaut>, and skill. Lady Anne presided at the 
head of the large table appnqjriated for the children. There 
was no dancing after supper, but fireworks, which made the 
conclusion of the evening. I confess I was as tired as if I 
had danced also, from the noise and from the total want of 
any real good conversation with the grown peojde. I think, 
in gener^, people are grown more old and dull since the 
two years I have not met them. Nothing but the wine at 
table exhilarates their spirits, and the high dishes takes 
them out of their [word wanting}. But I am glad to assure 
you that I have now done my duty for this year, and shall 
not be troubled again. I wish to God for never with any 
sight of them. 

Yesterday I made morning visits to Lady Glenbervie and 
Lady Charlotte, at the Phes^eantry ; this evening I go to 
Covent Garden, and to-morrow to Drury Lane, to amuse 
Willy, and to take away from the dreadful dreary and long 
evenings I passed with La Pucelle d'OrUans. Everybody of 
my acquaintance almost is gone to Paris. Mr. Ward went 
on Monday ; the Pools went, like conjugal felidty, to Pahs 
also, and took their only petit fruit d'amour, Emily, with 
them. Lord Lucan has sold his house in Hamilton Place 
to Lord Wellington : the formei is going abroad for three 

■ This lady was a fine and rare specimea ol English ctwracter : 
rough in maimei, right in principle, blunt in speech, but tender in 
heart ; Idnd, bue, and bust-worthy ; with a love for, and tme under- 
standing of music, in which she was a proficient. [Original note.] 

^ Prince William was afterwards the reigiiing Dnke of Brunswick : 
on the deposition of his t>Tother. Prince Cbaile*. 






years, with his whole baggage .of children. I say amen, as 
probably I shall never see them again, for which I shall not 
weep. The Emperor of Russia is expected in the course of a 
fortnight, and as he has visited the Empress Josephine at 
Mabnaison, he can have no objection to visit the Regent's 
•mie at Kensington. 

Miss B[ ] intends to pay you a visit with the brothers. 

I wish I could as easily as my thoughts do, convey myself 
to you,. You may say a hundred thi^ to a person, but it 
is impossible to put them all upon paper. You can express 
your thoughts, but not your feelings, which is my present 
case. What do you think of the " Wardour," by Madame 
D'ArblaJs ? It has only proved to u5 that she forgot her 
English ; and the same suspicion has arisen again in my 
mind, that " Evelina " was written, or at least corrected, by 
Dr. Johnson. There is nothing out worth reconunending 
in either language. I understand that Madame De Stael 
has been much offended at the Regent not inviting her 
the evening Louis XVIII. was at Carlton House. She now 
laments much that she never came to pay me a visit, and 
sacrificed me entirely to pay her court to him. She is a 
very time-servii^ person. She is going to Paris immediately. 
A long letter of congratulation was written by her to Louis 
XVIII., and paying all possible compliments, after having 
abused them, and done the Bourbons all the mischief in ner 
power. She is a very woridly person, and it is no loss what- 
ever to me never to have made her acquaintance. I shall 
retum to my little nutshell next Saturday, the 30th, and 
shall feel mj^f much more comfortable, and not so damp, 
as in my [H'esent habitation, and to live like " La dame de 
quality qui s'est retiri du monde." Adieu, and believe me. 
Yours most sincerely, 

C. P. 

Extraa of antAher LeOer /rom Her Royal Highness 
to the same. 

I wish you would persuade Lady Augusta Charteries * 
to come and be my lady of the bedchamb^ for six months ; 
and in case a great change in my situaticoi should take place 

* Ladf Augusta Charteris, dangbter of Francis, Lord Elcho, married. 
1819, Warner, Lord Rossmore. 

I 2 C 



which would enable me to go abroad, to take her then with 
me. She would either take the six months waiting at ODce, 
or divide them in three months, just as it would be convenient 
to her, as I have good reasons to think of preparing mysell, 
one day or another, for my journey abroad. The late great 
events on the Continent enable now everybody to go over 
there, and the living there will be so much less expensive. 
I can only assure you, that zooo/. of English money would 
make 12,000/. upon the Continent. I had lately occasion 
to transact some money matters abroad ; 300 dollars just 
make 50/. English money, so that I could be very well and 
very comfortable in a fine warm climate, and liberty into 
the bai^ain. I came to the royal menagerie on Tuesday, 
the 19th, not from idle want of variety, but from duty, mixed 
with very little inclination, to be civil to the very uncivilized 
society of the metropolis. The following day I had a great 
dinner of twenty people. The chief objects in the pcture 
were the Duke of Gloucester and the Princess Sophia, and 
the Greys, Lansdownes, Cowpers, &c. In the evening every 
one who left their names at Connau^t House ; thouf^ 
many repented of their dviUty, and sent shilly shally excuses 
for not attending the party. Thank God, the dreadful bore 
was over by twelve o'clock ; the curtain dropped, and I 
retired in the green-room to my solitary den. 

The other three days I saw nobody except the Prince 
Coad€, who was the mily gentleman who showed the least 
urbanity in taking leave of me. I did not hear ex: see any - 
thing of the farce with the white cockades, neither • • * 

« « * « » 

Everybody wore white favours for three days following, 
and any stranger arriving in the metropolis would have 
supposed that the whole country had be^ married, and 1 
have said, que cetoit le marriage du * * *, uni pour la jn- 
miere fds en Pall Mall. We have now a right to expect 
wonders from that quarter. So much about nothing. 

You may easily imagine I have not seen the Duchess of 
Oldenburgh, and I have also no curiosity to see a Kalmuck 
face. I shall have to-day Mr. Canning's party to dinner, 
which will enable me to get a fratic for all this random of 
mine. To-morrow I give a children's ball for my littk 
nephew, whose birthday it is. I have invited all the fathers 



and mothers who have children for that occasion. I am 
afraid it will be dreadfully dull for the old folks ; and then 
I have concluded for this year of our Lord 1814 with the 
great and dull world, and shall only devote my hours and 
days to my especial friends. The Ossulstons have followed 
Louis XVIII. Mr. Craven is gone in the same packet, com- 
manded by Sir J. Beresford, in which the King is lodged, to 
Paris. His mother sends him to the King of Prussia for 
the pension as Dowager Margravine to be paid, and even the 
arrears. His stay will be six weeks, but I am afraid unsuc- 
cessful with regard to his commission. Heaven bless you, 

my dear [ ]. 

C. P 

Extract of a Letter from Her Royal Highness the 
Princess of Wales to [ ]. 

The great news most talked of is this great state prisoner 
retained in the prison of Vincennes. I, in my own mind, am 
convinced it is the Dauphin, with which I should be delighted, 
but particularly to see completely the nation made an April 
fool of by tkis scham king. I am only afraid it would involve 
the nation in a civil war, as these old gouty fellows would not 
like to remove the crown so easily. How many regrets about 
the Saint-Esprits and the garters will be expressed, which, 
after all, was a very rash action of two old foolish noddles 
The English nation has at all times been made April fools of, 
but never so ccmipletely than this year of our Lord, 1817. 

The Prince Hereditary of Orange has been sent for in 
great, haste, and arrived on Saturday evening, incog. I have 
not yet heard or seen anything of him. He is to persuade 
his fair bride to settle in Holland. After she has refused to 
receive the Duke of York, who was to bring her such a mes- 
sage, they suppose that all-powerful love will make Princess 
Charlotte yield to leave her native country. But I trust 
that for once she will be steady, as she would involve herself 
in more difficulties in future, if not even lose her crown ; 
which I think would be a very bad joke, in consequence of 
too much obedience before marriage. tempore, O mores t 
^nce Saturday I am in town again ; and I feel myself much 
more comfortable from having performed my arduous tasks 
at the royal menagerie. Lady Westmoreland called on me 



one morning, and is going abroad directly. She is always 
going somewhere or anoder. I call her de perpetual motion. 
A Mr. Malcolm sent me a second edition of his " Sorrows of 
Love," for which I had paid him years ago ; and also two 
copies for the Regent and Princess Charlotte, both of which 
I sent to her ; and desired Mr. Malcolm to write to the Duchess 
of Leeds to get paid. I certainly never shall give him another 
shilling for his trash of poetry. He should send a fourth 
volume to Lady Hertford, as I think, in the present predica- 
ment, it would be acceptable, as it contains the " Sorrows 
of Love." 

Pray believe me ever your affectionate 

C. P[ 1 

A copy of a letter from Lord Liveq)ool previously to 
Her Royal H^bness's departure from England ; written 
in the ^incess of Wales's hand. 

FiFB HousB, July aSlk. 
Lord Liverpool has had the honour of recdving your 
Koyal Highness's letter, and of laying it before the Pnoce 
Regent. Lord IJverpool is commanded by the Prince to 
acquaint your Royal Highness, that he can have no objection 
to your Royal Highness carrying into effect the intention 
announced by your Royal Highness of going to your native 
country to pay a visit to your brother the Duke of Brunswick, 
and that it cannot be the wish of the Prince Regent to inter- 
fere in any plan which may be formed by 3n)ur Royal Highness 
for your present or future residence ; but His Royal Highness 
will be satisfied that you should exercise your own discretimi 
as to residing in this coimtry or abroad, as may be most 
convenient to you. Lord Liverpool has been directed furtber 
to inform your Royal Highness, that the Prince of Wales 
does not wish to throw any impediment in the way of any 
arrangements which you may be desirous of making respect- 
ing the house of Her Royed Highness the late Ducb^ of 
Brunswick, or of any other part of your Royal Highness's 
private property ; but various considerations must prevent 
the Prince Regent from appointing Her Royal ffighness 
Princess Giarlotte ranger of Greenwich Park at present, or 
of pennitting her to reside in the house at Blackheath. 



Lord Liverpool is commanded by the Prince Regent not 
to conclude this letter without noticing the two circumstances 
mentioned in your^oyal Highness's letters — of the rupture 
of the negotiation^for the raaniage of Her Royal Highness 
Princess Charlottej,with the hereditary Prince of Orange, and 
of your Royal Highness not having received a visit from the 
aUied sovereigns and other illustrious personages before they 
left England. With respect to the first of these pcants. Lord 
Liverpool is commanded to say, that from the course of the 
transaction itself, the Prince Regent cannot consider the 
peculiar circumstances of your Royal Highness as having 
formed the obstacle to that marriage. Upon the latter point. 
Lord Liverpool is commanded to acquaint your Royal High- 
ness that DO obstruction was placed by the Prince Regent 
in the way of the allied sovereigns, or the other illustrious 
personages, visiting your Royal Highness before they left 

A short note from the Princess herself accompanies 
this copy of Lord Liverpool's letter, which Her Royal 
Highness sent to her friend. She says, " I send you the 
best letter I ever received from that quarter. I can now 
do what I like, go where I choose ; / have got leave, and 
feel quite happy." Poor soul, what a mistaken view 
of the subjejCt ! Her husband was too glad she should 
leave the country ; it was what he most wished for. He 
well knew there was no peace for him to be expected 
whilst there were " two Harrys in the field," and a Prince 
and Princess of Wales, situated as they were with r^ard 
to each other, could not fail to be a thorn in each other's 
side ; so that the Regent was delighted to see her depart. 
At the moment, however, the receipt of Lotd Liverpool's 
letter gave Her Royal Highness pleasure. She looked 
forward to release from restr^t, and rest from bitter 
words and cruel mockings ; and it is not surprising 
she contemplated with satisfaction going to a foreign 
land which promised her enjoyments she missed in 



Extract of a Letter from Lady [ ]. 

I saw the Princess of Wales to-day. Her Royal Highness 
informed me that the Duke of Kent had just left her, having 
announced a drawii:^-room, which is to take place on the i6th. 
This great event was settled the other day at Carlton House. 
The old Queen did not like it at first, or pretended not to do 
so, but was at last obliged to consent. It will be the most 
curious thing in the world, if it actually does take place ; 
but I have my doubts. The thing is so extraordinary. That 
an old Dowager Queen — for, in fact, she is a dowager as long 
as the poor King is set aside, from a living death — that she, 
I say, should give a drawing-room and gaieties, when there 
is a Princess Regent, whose business it is to do so, seems very 
extraordinary, and likely to excite the rage of John BulL 

Extract of another Letter from th same to tht same. 

My dear [ ], — CkatUicteer is fairly routed and terrified 

off his dunghtU, and Trou Madame exists no more. How this 
blessed change was brought about, I cannot say ; but all wild, 
common birds have a great abhorrence to some pets of their 
own kind ; and, by all I can devise, it has been successfully 
managed by them. One thing certain is, that I have had 
nothing to do in the matter ; but that so it is, and it is most 
fortunate. Of course, at the Palace, things go chi as usual ; 
but that matters not, in comparison. 

I passed a pleasant evening last night at Woodland's, 
where I found the Sweet Williams ; but I must, perhaps, 
give you the key to that lock — a written pun, and su<ii a one. 
demands an apology. Well, there was also there a General 
Zabloukofi, who married a daughter of old Mr. Angerstein's. 
He and bis wife are just imported from Russia, and the former, 
as an eye witness of the campaign there, was very entertaining. 
He related horrors that made my flesh creep ; and it is quite 
curious to bear (by his account) how very nearly Bonaparte 
escaped : but a miss, you will say, is as good as a mile. 

A Letter from the same to the same. 

Here we are, in what I call trou Madame, at seven o'clock 

in the fine August evenings, to be immured, for a certainty, 

till half-past twelve. It is a trial of patience. This has 



been the case three evemngs out of five ; and I find, irom my 
predecessors, that this was the case for a fortnight together. 
I own it is very disgusting, and the more so to me, from 
my feelings being constantly oppressed by goodness for which 
I cannot return unmixed gratitude. I know you will enter 
into all my feelings upon all accounts, and it is a relief 
to express them to you, though at present I b^ you not 
to reply to n^ communications. As long as I choose to be 
what I am, I will be it faithfully and according to my station ; 
but I have been sadly goaded these last four days, and should 
not be surprised if I could not bear it much longer. However, 
do not be afraid of my doing anjrthing suddenly or vioknUy. 
Enough of this subject, perhaps too much, on paper. 

Messrs. Cell and Craven dUied at the Palace, and made 
two evenings pass pleasantly ; but I can see that they are 
not what they were to the Princess. Gell is so de bonne foi, 
that I do not think he has discerned how bad things are 
become ; but his friend has, in some degree, and I see him 
turn away in pity, but contempt. Alas ! alas I for my poor 
mistress I it distresses me to see her doing all to sink heiself. 

The Royal Dukes pay Her Royal Highness great court. 
The Duke of Kent was here yesterday : he told the Princess 
that his regiment, which has been engaged in this last affair 
at St. Sebastian, is cut to i^eces ; the whole of the grenadiers 
killed. I feel more than usual horror at this carnage, for 

many of his men were drafted out of the Militia, and 

several officers whom I knew, poor fellows I 

I suppose you have heard that it is thought the Prince of 
Orange is to be placed before Princess Charlotte, to see if 
he can find favour in her sight. This is to be managed by 
means of a breakfast, ^ven by Lord Liverpool, at which the 
Queen's most gracious Majesty is to be present, and, of course, 
the young one ; but the tatter wrote word to her mother 
that she would not go. This, I believe, is only by way of 
pleasing the Princess of Wales, who, for some reason or 
other, does not like the idea of this marriage. Perhaps she 
does not wish for any marriage, for fear of a new and greater 
influence over her dau^ter than any that has yet be^. 

Princess Charlotte hates her grandmother * ; and, tell 



it not in Gath, but I am sure she has no partiality for her 
father ; so that, to spiie tkem, A» takes her motluer'& part. 
I wish I could think she had a better motive for so dcuog. 
Perhaps I wrong Princess Charlotte ; but, as I at present 
view her character, it seems to me a selfish one ; tyranny, 
and the love of power, the master-passions of her mind. 
But her mother will not long have any influence over her, 
if she continues the same frivolous and disgraceful nkode of 
life which she has indulged in lately. But no human power 
can check her course, be it right or wrong. There is a pro- 
pelling force in the Princess of Wales's own heart and fancy, 
that uiges her to do whatever she wills, and bids defiance to 
reason, or to the fear of God or man. This is all I can pick 
out of my brains to-day : and little and dull is the aU, my 
dear : but I trust the assurance that I am yours, afiectionately, 
will be welcome to you. 

Extract of another Letter from the same to the same. 

Though I know you do not interest yourself about gossip, 
I must tell you that there is a most curious story afloat (I 
do not vouch for the truth of it), saying the Duke of [Devon- 
shirej is not the Duchess's son. The Duchess, it was said, 
substituted her faiend Lady [Elizabeth FosterJ's child for 
her oow— the present Duchess's, that is to say : consequently, 
the child thus imposed on the world as a son and heir to 
the honour of the House of [Cavendish], is no son and heir. 
There were strange doings in that house, if report speaks 
truth. If this stoiy be true (and that there is some truth in 
it I do believe), many persons will suffer shame and loss. It 
seems Croft, the man who attended poor Princess Charlotte 
in her confinement, was the only peison in the secret, and 
was sent for from London to Paris to attend the Duchess of 
[Devonshire] when this Duke, or, rather, no Duke,' was bom ; 
and this man has lately shot himself ; which some persons 
have attributed to his evil conscience. Lord* fBurlington] 
would then be Duke, were his story proved true. ^ She is 
coming to Rome, it seems, and, it is supposed, to extract 



the truth out of the Duchess: cosa digicik assai, unless it 
be true that she is turned Catholic, out of love for Cardinal 
G[onsalvji, and that fear aunpels her to make a clear 

Among other En^h news, I beard to-day that Lady [ 

], Lord A[ ]'s sister, has runaway from her husband. 

This shocks me, for I knew her intimately. She loved her 
husband dearly, passionately, when I knew her ; and nothing 
was wanting to their felicity except children. It is horrid 
to think of crime without any excuse to palliate it : and 
where is this poor lady's excuse — ^wbo forsook the man of 
her choice, and fme who seemed tenderly attached to ber, 
and with whom she had lived for twenty years t 

Lord A[ ]n is dead. This is even a still more fearful 

event ; for, from alt I have heard, he was little prepared to 

die. In a letter I received to-day from Lady [ ], who 

was an intimate friend of his, she tells me the following 
curious particulars relative to his end. " One morning, when 

he met Lady A[ }n at breakfast, he said, you know I am 

no coward, not afraid of ghosts or such idle fancies ; but if 
I were to Uve a thousand years, I would not pass such a night 
over ag^Q, or see such sights as I saw last night." A short 
time before bis death he also said to his wife, " you think 
I am quite well ; but I tell you I am not — I am dying." And 
when his physicians had held a consultation about his health. 

Lord A[ ] charged them to tell him their exact opinion, 

and they did so, informing him that his hfe was certainly in 
imminent danger. He did not appear at all agitated, but 
ordered his coach and four, with outriders, and went out 

driving. Some say, that as Lord A[ ] was hfted out of his 

carriage on his return home, he died ; others, that he Uved 

through the night ; but altogether, adds Lady [ ], I never 

heard a more awful account of the close of a hfe. I hear 

Dr. H|; ]y • implored Lord A[ ] to see him, and permit 

him to talk on religious matters, but he obstinately refused 
the request. No one knows what was the disease of which 

Lord A[ ] died. Sir T, Lawrence's expression to a friend 

was, " I looked for Lord A[ ]n in his arm-chair, and 

could not see him, be was so slurunk." 

— ]y, formerly tutor in Lord A[ ]'• 



I regret Lord A[ ^]n's decease, for the sake of my friend 

Lady [ ], to whom he was very kind ; and also he was 

friendly to the unhappy Princess of Wales. 

Now, as you kindly wish me to do so, I will say something 
about myself ; but it shall be as little as possible, for I have 
nothing to tell you that can be interesting or agreeable to 
hear. The day is beautiful, and it has done me some good 
to breathe its genial breath ; but do you not know that 
feeUng of contrast, of painful contrast, between the beauty 
of a first day of spring, and the wintry cold that is in tin 
heart — that sighing of the soul which says, " I, too, migkl 
be happy " ; but I am absent and miserable, and can taste 
none of this gaiety of nature. Heavens ! how beautiful the 
clustering domes and towers of Florence looked — its distant 
frame of hills, its many-coloured lights I I went to the Santa 
Croce, and enjoyed the greatness of its recollections. The 
tombs of the two Aretins are very beautiful : the marble has 
acquired that mellow tint, at once so brilliant, so transparent, 
and yet so subdued, which I admire more than when it is 
very dazzhngly white ; and I like the design of those monu- 
ments. I am called away by visitors, so must bid you fare- 
well for to-day, my dear friend. Yours, with every kind 
wish for your happiness. 

From the same to the same. 

A have heard nothing more about the D[evonshire] story, 
except that the mother and son (if such they are) appear 
to be hving on very happy terms, and the story is said to be 
hushed up by a promise on the part of the Duke, that he will 
never marry, or pretend to present an heir. What an agreeable 
compact for his Grace ! I heard a great deal of the first 
Dudiess, from a man of business, to whom she was frequently 
indebted for assistance in pecuniary matters. He gave me a 
curious autograph of her's, which I copy and send for your 
amusement. It makes one marvel to think how a high-bom 
lady could ever lay herself under such disgraceful obligations. 
The Duke always behaved to her with the greatest loudness 
and generosity. But then, to be sure, he Imew she knew his 
peccadillos ; so it was. Tats tot, je scats ; tats tot, je scats, 
that made them bear with one another What a disgraceful 



bargain ) yet it is one very frequently made by great folks. 
Here is the Duchess' letter. 


Dated LoNiMH, i8(A I3»e, 1779. 

Mr. D[ ^]U having lent me two thousand six hundred 

and fifty pounds, I do hereby promise to pay him two hundred 
and fifty pounds every three months, at the usual quarter 
days, and continue to pay that sum quarterly to him or his 
heirs (allowing five per cent, interest, and five per cent, for 
insurance of my life per annum), untU principal, interest, 
and insurance, shall be fully paid. 

(Signed) G[eorgiana] D[bvonshire]. 

Hy i^reement is, that in case the Duchess does not pay 
me two hundred and fifty pounds quarterly, that I shall 
acquaint the Duke of D[evQnshire] with tins transaction ; 
and her Grace has promised, in case of her death or other 
accidents, to leave in writing a request that I may be paid, 
as I have lent her the money to reUeve her from play ^bts, 
under a solemn promise that she will not play in future. 

(Signed) J. D[ ■[. 

This is a very curious letter, and a melancholy record of 
the folly of this great Lady, who was one of the best-hearted 
persons in the world. I have often heard it told of her, that 
if she had money set apart for pleasure, or for the payment 
of debts, and that some individual came to faer in pecuniary 
distress, she would always reUeve him or her, and leave her 
own difficulties unprovided for. Oftentimes she was wrong 
in so doing. One must be just before one is generous. But 
it is impossible not to be charmed by the kindly impulse which 
made her, without a moment's hesitation, shield another 
from distress. Alas I it is frequently thus. Those who are 
amiable, are often not estimable ; yet, I fear I lean to the 
former, with a weak partiality, for which I have repeatedly 
blamed myself. 

Today I beard a most romantic story, one which, if it 
was narrated in a novel, would be called exaggerated. But 
there are often romances in real fife which far surpass any 
fictitious compositions. Madame [— J told me that hit 



sister, Uis. T, B[ ], persecated her since the deaUi ol 

her parents ; > and when she discovered her attachment to 
her present husband, at Naples, she made it the means ol 
turning her own brother against her. They could not lock 
her^up, as her fortune was very large, and independent 0/ 
them ; but they contrived to imprison her lover, and carried 
her o£E to Malta. From thence they sent her to England, to 
an uncle. To tell you all the story is now impossible ; suffice 
it to say, she escaped from the people who had the chargr 
of her. The very day she arrived at Portsmouth, she dressed 
herself in boy's clothes, and got, unobserved, to Calais ; but 
when the passengers landed, she had no passport, and tbey 
would not suffer her to go on shore. It was night, and she 
was in despair ; but, by the light of a lanthom, she beheld 
a man, who appeared hke a gentleman, walking on the per. 
She threw herself on her knees to htm, appealed to his com- 
passion, and told him her story. He took pity on her, and 
procured her a passport, but only as far as Paris. Madame 

[ ] had only seventy pounds with her, for her brother had 

the power of stopping her income, under pretence that she 
was mad, and about to disgrace her family. Obliged, thoe- 
fore, to husband this sum, lest it should not carry her a 
Naples, where her lover was imprisoned, she at length, afti 
great difficulties, obtained the necessary passport, and tit 
ninth day reacted Rome. There she was told by a Nea 
politan that her lover was released, and gone to London in 
quest of her. She turned her steps back again, and caught 
him at Milan ; but only saw him for two hours, for lie said, 
" They will tell you that I many you for your fortune ; that 
I do not love you ; and therefore, till every shilling is settled 
upon yourself, we must not be united. Go, return to England ; ' 
t^ve that matter arranged, and I will come and claim you 
in England." Accordingly she did so ; they were married, 
and after a trial of two years, pronoimced themselves happy 
in all except the persecution of her friends, and the mode in 
which they have tied up her fortune, so that she caimot live 
as she would wish. 
Are you tired of this long story ? I have not imparted to 

it the interest which Madame [ ] did in relating it to me, 

with heartfelt energy ; and she made me look with admira- 
tion, even at her Uttle ugly «eU, as she sat beside me, while 



I thought on how much she had undei^ne of trial, and 
how nobly she had combated against the mean tyranny of 
her relatives. To be sure, it seems astonishing that Madame 

[ ] should have gone through so much for love of her ugly 

husband, insignificant in mind, body, and estate, as he appears 
to others ; but love (which like a piece of water in an ugly 
landscape, which reflects a thousand tints of beauty, and 
redeems a common scene from its monotony) endows the 
beloved one with fair qualities, which exist only in the reflec- 
tion of passion's mirror. Blessings on the power which 
creates this magic charm I In truth, love is the sun of the 
human heart, without which it is a dark abyss, joyless and 

I am ashamed of this rhapsody ; do you forgive it ? I 
said I was disappointed in Florence, when I first arrived. 
I must make it the amende kofwrabU, and tell you that I am 
now very fond of this place. Again I cannot resist a simile : 
like an ugly person, whose outward appearance repels at first 
sight, but in whom, after longer acquaintance one discovers 
innumerable merits of head and heart, — so have I learned 
to know and value the locale of Florence as it deserves. 

You must be weary of reading this long letter. Perhaps 
you have not had patience to read so far ; but let your eye 
glance over the last words, which are to assure you I am 
affectionately your friend, and may your heart re-echo the 
feeling ! 

From the same to Ike same. 

Your letter from Brieg has this moment relieved me from 
some anxiety. I began to be afraid you had lost yourself 
in regions of " thick ribbed ice," or broken your neck over a 
precipice in your pursuit of gloiy after the Chamois : so that, 
on all accounts, your letter was most welcome. If you have 
ever wished for my friend and myself in the course of your 
tour, I assure you we have as frequently returned the com- 
pliment ; and I often say to myself, when I am tempted to 
walk about into strange-looking shops, in quest of prey, as 

well as in viewing things of high and sacred fancy, — ^when [ ] 

comes, I shall avafl myself of his protection and taste, to 
indulge in the latter. Often, too, at night, when I long to 



enjoy the moonlight, I think if I had a comfortable, quiet 
sort of an arm to protect me, I should like to wander about 
as chance led me ; and I have fancied that something of 
similar taste, perhaps of similar distaste, might make yov 
not an unwilling companion. 

Perhaps you think I am going to tell you of the Gallery of 
the Palais Pitti, the Academia, the Santa Croce, &c. ; but 
not a bit of these things shall I pretend to write of. Flowers, 
feathers, silver tissue, jewels, golden ornaments, pomps, 
and ceremonies, and bridal attire, are all I am competent to 
give you in description. Yesterday I went to the nuptials 
of the Grand Duke's daughter with Prince Cai^ano. The 
ceremony took place in the Duomo, at ten in the morning. 
The church was illuminated, or, rather, I should say, spangled 
with thousands of waxen tapers ; it was hung with crimson 
and gold ; decorated with draperies of various sorts ; and 
all the spectators — those admitted with the court, at least — 
in the most splendid attire. The women were magnificently 
and tastefully habited ; the men, as fine as finery could 
make them. The forms of male costume exclude the possi- 
bility of beauty. The bride (the victim, or the beatified— 
who can say which ?) was gorgeously arrayed. A long vdl 
nearly covered her whole form. Tlus was taken off at the 
foot of the altar, when the ceremony began. She is a young 
girl, of sixteen ; fair and gentle in appearance ; her husband 
not ill-looking, but nothing particular, in his fonn or face, 
to attract or repel. I thought the whole scene imposing ; 
and the Roman Cathohc rites (do not despise me for the 
confession) are very often grateful to my feelings. There is 
something very awful in the reflection,, that two beings are 
binding themselves for ever, to the performance of the most 
sacred duties, the fulfilment of which, inasmuch as regards 
the heart alone, does not always depend upon themselves. 
That word, " for ever " — it always thrills through me. I was 
not gay while I beheld the ceremony I have been describing ; 
but I was interested — interested even to bodily fatigue. At 
night we went to a great apartimmto — ^which means court — 
at the Palais Pitti. The Palace, the arrangement of the 
attendance, the quantity of servants, guards, &c. far exceed 
our courts. The women in general are not to be compared 
with our English beauties ; but there were two ot three that 



commanded admiration, and looked like fine works )f art 
started into life. 

To-night is a night of rest, T am glad to say, for my health 
is not strong. To-morrow there is a ball given to the court, 
by Hadame Brignole ; and there are to he more fites given 
by the Grand Duke. I shall be glad when fhi<; racket is 
over. My friend, however, enjoys foreign gaieties so much, 
that I have a pleasure in seeing him weU amused. One 
pleasure I myself enjoy exceedingly, — the r Opera. The 
singers are not particularly good ; but the orchestra is fine, 
the choice of the music tasteful, the ballet quite delightful. 
In general, I care not for dancing ; but it is an historical 
ballet, taken from a story in MacchiaveUi, of the Guelphs and 
GhibeUines. The enthusiasm of the people was so great on 
bearing this the first night, that they absolutely roiu^d and 
shouted, although the presence of the court ought to have 
fenced all but royal applause, according to etiquette. 

WeU I so much for what, perhaps, you care not about ; 
but can my letter be entertaining to you ? Are we well 
enough acquainted, that I should chatter securely, and be 
certain of not wearying ? Our acquaintance is of such a 
recent date ; yet, somehow or other, my fancy has stepped 
over time, and I imagine myself, at least, a very old acquaint- 
ance of yours ; in consideration of which, I use the privilege 
of being tiresome. 

I think I like Florence ; I think I shall love Florence ; 
but what I dreaded is now come to pass ; the Alps, the 
Appenines, the Ocean, they rise in all their majesty, and 
with treble majesty, before the eyes of my imagination, to 
make a barrier, that seems to shut me out from England ; 
and though I would not displace this barrier, the contradic- 
tion of human nature makes it more than fearful to me. 
In the act of travelling, distance and absence are less felt ; 
once settled, remembrance and fancy are living agents, and 
the survey they take is exaggerated — most cruelly exagge- 
rated. But ttus will pass, for does not evei3rthing pass 7 
and then I shall love Florence. 

Have you voted me a tearing woman for giving you a 
commission to bring me artificial flowers ? It was a comical 
commission, certainly : thanks for the real ones. There are 
beauteous ones here, but I have nobody to choose them for